Because I'm Awesome
by Slavok
Summary: Louise could handle a weak familiar. She could handle a strong familiar. But what she can't handle was a completely unpredictable kleptomaniac with only a passing deference to the laws of physics and a three word answer to everything. And ever since she summoned Lift, someone started stealing everyone's dinner!
1. Chapter 1

Because I'm Awesome

Chapter One

Louise Françoise de La Valliere had been looking forward to the Springtime Summoning Ritual for as long as she had been dreading it. It was a test, a chance to prove herself a noble worthy of her family name. The fact that she had failed every other test along the way was irrelevant. This one was the one that mattered. _This_ one was going to be different.

When the day finally came, she had hoped to summon something amazing, but she would have been content to get something average, like a cat or a dog. She had even prepared for that, and ordered a pile of straw brought up to her room for her familiar to sleep on. A dragon wouldn't fit, but if she summoned a _dragon,_ she'd accept the inconvenience.

She raised her wand and began her spell, trying to ignore the sniggers and jeers from her classmates. Everyone else had already summoned their familiars, and while only a few of them had been impressive, _all_ of them had been successful.

Except for her. She had memorized the words to the spell and recited them like everyone else, but nothing happened besides an explosion. When her chance to try again came, she did exactly the same thing and spoke the words perfectly, but to no result. She tried again a third time, and for the third time nothing happened.

By the time her fourth chance arrived, she had grown desperate. The only times mages needed more than two was when they summoned a fish or another familiar that couldn't survive normal conditions. But even a disaster was _something._ Louise was … Zero.

"By the Pentagon of the Five Powers," she said, beginning the spell just like she always had. But … what had the standard wording of the spell ever given her? She hadn't failed the spell. She recited the incantations perfectly! The _spell_ had failed _her_! She needed to try something different. "Please, just give me something awesome."

It came out more like a prayer than a spell, but she had tried using magic and that hadn't worked. She needed a miracle.

WWW

Lift looked around at the crowd in front of her. She didn't recognize _anyone._ Or anything, from the flimsy, gangly building to the soft, slow grass. It didn't look nothing like the crowded stone streets in Azir she had left behind. "I have no idea where I am." Her dirty, round face split into a grin. "Perfect!"

Wyndle's face formed out of vines that grew around her feet. "I am immediately regretting this decision, Mistress."

Lift took a deep breath. The air was _full_ of smells she ain't never smelled before. None of it smelled like food, but still it was _different!_ "You can't regret that decision! It was _my_ decision! Only I can regret those."

"More and more I question both statements, Mistress."

"Hush, Voidbringer." Wyndle sighed as she looked around. She hadn't been everywhere, but she'd seen all sorts of people. Most of the folk in front of her looked a bit like Iriali with their golden blond hair, but not completely. Others she didn't recognize at all, like the blue-haired girl. Lift had traveled over half of Roshar, and she ain't never saw no one blue.

They were all young, only a few years older than her, except for a bald man who looked like an Ardent. He was old. You had to be old for all your hair to fall out, and his head was bald instead of shaved. She hadn't seen too many of them Vorin priests, their folk stayed more eastward toward the Origin, but she never saw none of them with hair. Best to keep Wyndle away from that one. She didn't want to get an exorcism just yet.

"So where do you think we ended up?"

"Apologies, is that your permission for me to stop hushing?" On second thought, an exorcism didn't sound half bad. "Ahem. Judging by the landscape and the flora, I can assume that we are on some part of the world untouched by Highstorms."

What? But the Highstorms went everywhere! That's what made them the stormin' Highstorms! Except for, well …. "You mean like Shinovar or someplace like that?"

"Perhaps."

Lift looked around. "But none of them people look Shin. I mean, some are short, some are pale, and that one's bald, but none of them are all three."

"Then," Wyndle concluded, "we must be somewhere _else_ where the Highstorm does not reach."

Lift frowned. It sounded sketchy, like the sort of thing a Voidbringer would say to trick her. Starvin' Voidbringer was always trying to trick her. "But I ain't never heard of nowhere else like that."

"Then," Wyndle said, his vine and crystal body circling around her through the grass that seemed to have taken no notice of her, "I must assume that you have never heard of _here_."

WWW

When Louise cast the spell for the fourth time, there was an explosion just like when she tried to cast anything else. She sighed. Once more, Louise the Zero had lived down to her nickname and failed to live up to her family name, and had accomplished …

… wait. As the dust cleared, Louise made out the image of a figure that had not been there before. Was that her familiar? Had her spell worked? Had, against all hope, her prayer been answered?

No. Because when the dust settled all the way, the only thing that emerged from her explosion was a peasant. A _peasant._ She wanted to deny it at first, but the only newcomer in the field was a scrawny girl with dirty clothes and long black hair.

In a way, it was worse than summoning nothing. It was _funny_.

It was like the universe was playing a joke on her. A noble that couldn't use magic was no different than a commoner, the universe seemed to say, so it gave her one.

 _Well, screw you, universe! No one messes with a Valliere!_ "This was a mistake!" she said aloud to her teacher, Professor Colbert. "Can I try again?"

He shook his bald, bespectacled head. "No."

Oh. Well, in that case, she'd just have to bring out the heavy artillery. "Can I _please_ try again?" Her noble aura and overwhelming charm hit her teacher like an avalanche.

Which he ignored completely. "No!" He sighed, and his tone softened. "Look, Miss Valliere. No one gets the exact familiar they want, but this is what the spell gave you. I know that summoning a commoner is … unorthodox, but that is the familiar you have received."

"But professor! What are people going to say when they see me dragging a peasant around with me everywhere?"

"I don't know what you're complaining about," Kirche von Zerbst spoke up. Despite what Colbert said, Kirche was inordinately pleased with her summon, a large, red salamander, and seemed like she was planning on bragging about it for the rest of the semester. "I think a commoner is perfect for you. It can't use magic, and you–"

"Yes, Zerbst, I already thought of that," Louise snapped. "And it wasn't funny then!"

Colbert stepped between them. "Stop fighting, both of you. And Miss Valliere, the Springtime Summoning Ritual is a sacred tradition, _not_ a vanity spell. If you refuse to seal the contract with your familiar, I will be forced to expel you."

She swallowed. There it was, the E word. She wasn't the only one who had decided to bring out the heavy artillery, and Colbert's was bigger than hers. She looked at the commoner she had summoned, who had started _hopping_ of all things, completely indifferent to the nobility surrounding her.

Louise approached her, and tried to ignore her jeering peers. "Hey, what's your name?" It was only polite to ask that before the next step.

The girl looked up at her as if just noticing her and stopped bouncing. She looked to be about twelve, but so did Louise, so she might have just been a late bloomer too. It was her cheap clothes that marked her as a commoner, with a shirt that used to be white and a pair of baggy brown trousers and no shoes. Her tan skin made her look like she was from Germania, but Louise hoped that wasn't the case. Besides, the girl had long, black hair, and Germania was made up exclusively of redheaded skanks. Her mother told her so.

"I'm Lift," she said, half distracted by stomping on the grass. "What's yours? And where am I? 'Cause I sure ain't in Azir no more, and I don't think this is Shinovar neither."

Louise blinked. Even the peasant's speech sounded common. The maids in the Academy, at least, had the decency to speak properly or not at all. She wondered if she could gag her familiar without raising too many eyebrows.

"Yeah, didn't think so," Lift continued. "So what was your name?"

She sighed. It could have been worse. She didn't know how, but it _could_ have been. She pulled out her wand. "My name is Louise Françoise Le Blanc de La Valliere."

"Loo-eese Francheese de what now?" The peasant, Lift, snorted. "Got something shorter?"

Louise hesitated. She'd go through with this if she had to, but she'd do it her own way. She pulled out a silk handkerchief out of her pocket and rubbed it on the girl's forehead to remove some of the dirt. "My name," she said again, starting over, "is Louise Françoise Le Blanc de La Valliere. Pentagon of the Five Elemental Powers; bless this humble being and make her my familiar."

"Louise Fransauce Le Bonk la de da Vanilla," Lift said. "You're gonna to make what your what?"

She ignored her, tapped the girl's head with her wand, and kissed her on the forehead.

WWW

Lift blinked. The Louise girl–she looked kind of Veden with pink hair instead of red, though really pink was just red that wasn't trying–turned and walked back to her group, ignoring her. "Huh," she said, rubbing her forehead. "That was odd."

"Oh dear," Wyndle said, swirling around the grass at her feet. "Something is not right, mistress."

"I know. I just said that. Odd way of saying hello, but beats a fist to the–"

"No!" Lift looked down at him. He whined all the time, but he never shouted unless it was something big. "This is worse! I can feel something pushing our bond aside, similar to the Nahel Bond, but very, _very_ wrong!"

Heat spread throughout her body, not just where the girl had kissed her, but everywhere. It was like some mad Ardent with a Soulcaster was trying to transmute her into fire.

"Do something!" Wyndle screamed.

She did. She swore in every language she knew and several she didn't, courtesy of Tigzikk the scholar. She didn't know what all the words meant, but she was pretty sure that the Thaylen part translated to "Kelek's nose hairs," which made her feel a little better. But still on fire.

"Something else!"

There was only one other thing she could think of. She became Awesome. She didn't like doing it when people were watching, but without making herself Slick or growing nothing, the only outward sign of her Awesomeness was a bit of white smoke coming off of her, which was nearly invisible on a sunny day.

She could feel the heat inside of her, consuming her, but when she used her Awesomeness to push it out, it left as quickly as it had come.

As she lay collapsed on the ground, panting for breath, the Ardent picked up her left hand and looked real close at it. Sure, ignore the girl that nearly burst into flames, but that mark on the back of her hand looked _interesting._ Lousy Ardent.

"These runes are very unusual," the world's worst Ardent observed.

"Did … did it work?" Lift asked Wyndle. Storms, she was hungry.

"I remain cognizant while in the Physical Realm," the Voidbringer replied. "So I assume so."

"Yes," the bald man said to her. "You'll be happy to know that Miss Valliere has successfully sealed you as her familiar."

What?

"On her first try, too," he continued. "Congratulations, Miss Valliere. But these runes … I need to do some research." He looked around as though remembering where he was. "That's everyone, so class dismissed." He, and nearly everyone else floated into the air and flew away.

If she wasn't so hungry, Lift would have been more surprised. A _lot_ more. "Did all those people just start flying?" she asked. Storms, she felt dizzy. What she needed right now was _cake._

"Of course," the Veden girl Louise said. "What's wrong with that?"

With frosting and berries and … no. Cake later. Now she had _crazy_ to worry about. "That's normal here? People whenever can just … _vloop_?" She mimed her hand taking off. "Up in the air like that?" That sounded neat. Maybe not awesome, but certainly neat.

"Of course. It's a basic wind spell, so I'm sure that the lord of whatever backwoods countryside you hail from could do it, though you might not have ever seen him."

"Backwoods countryside?" Lift repeated indignantly. "I've been everywhere between Azir and Rall Elorim, and I ain't never seen no one who could fly till now."

"Azir? Rall Elorim? Where are those places? Somewhere in Germania?"

"What? No, it's the entire western side of Roshar." Lift wasn't that big on geography, but you had to be a starvin' _moron_ to not know about the some of the largest kingdoms on the continent.

"And Roshar is … where?" Yup. Starvin' moron. Louise shook her head. "You know what, it would be easier for you to just point it out on a map. Now, if there's nothing else …"

"Yeah, there's something else! I have so many questions! Where am I? And more importantly, how did I get here? No, _most_ importantly, do you have anything to eat? 'Cause I'm _starvin'._ "

Louise sighed. She did that a lot, and she was starting to remind her of Wyndle. "Come with me. I'll order something brought up."

WWW

A master had two duties to her familiar: to provide food and shelter. Louise didn't know how well her peasant was going to hold up her end of the contract, but Louise was going to be the best darn master in Tristain even if it killed her. Her noble pride demanded no less.

She sat on the chair in her room with her back straight, while her familiar lounged over the pile of straw. Louise wasn't expecting refinement from the commoner, but she was just coarse! She was about to reprimand the girl's behavior when a maid entered the room, carrying a tray with two plates and two glasses of wine.

She realized her mistake as soon as she saw the tray. When she had requested dinner for two to be brought up, she neglected to specify that one of them was a commoner, so the staff brought up two noble dishes. Each plate had a slab of salmon with spiced rice and a hot bread roll on the side, and while Louise had never been fond of the smell of fish, it was a finer fair than she should let her familiar get used to tasting.

Not that Lift seemed intent on tasting it. Or chewing it, if she could help it. She picked up the fish with her hands and crammed it into her mouth. Louise winced. "We have silverware, you know."

"So?" Lift asked, with her mouth still full. "You can't eat that."

"You know," Louise said. "Most commoners go their entire lives without being invited to eat with a noble. The least you could do is at least try to use table manners."

Lift slurped down the roll. Louise didn't even know that one _could_ slurp a roll. "I ate with an emperor before. He didn't mind none."

"Emperor? How'd you get invited to eat with an emperor?" The only country she knew of with an emperor was Germania. Romalia had a pope, and the rest of Halkeginia had monarchs. Of course, Rub al'Khali might have had a dozen tiny empires that no one knew about.

"I helped him with his application." She tilted the plate to her mouth and poured the rice in.

"Why would an emperor need your help with an _application_?" What kind of emperor needed an application at all?

Lift shrugged. "Because I'm awesome." She looked at Louise's plate, which she hadn't touched. Watching Lift eat had ruined her appetite. "Are you going to eat that?"

Awesome? Peculiar choice of words. Once more, Louise felt like the universe was making fun of her. At its own peril.

"Knock yourself out."

"YES!" She snatched the plate and began shoving its contents into her mouth, as though she hadn't eaten in weeks. And, for all Louise knew, she hadn't. She was probably lying about eating with an emperor. That was the sort of nonsense people made up to make themselves seem important.

She took a sip of her wine. Founder knew she needed a drink after all this. "If you are wondering where you are, you are in the Kingdom of Tristan in the Tristan Academy."

"Uh-huh." If Lift recognized the name, she gave no sign. If she was even listening to her, she gave no sign of that either.

"I summoned you here for the purpose of being my familiar."

"Oh, so that was you who made that Oath Gate thingy?"

"The what?"

"You know, that glowing green mirror thingy that brought me here. That was you?"

"I don't know what happened on your end, but yes, I cast the spell that brought you here."

"Huh. So which one are you? You an Elsecaller or a … what was the other one?" She seemed to be addressing a spot on the wall. "A Willshaper? Right."

"Are those what people call types of mages where you are from?"

"Um …." She looked back in the corner. "Yeah. Sure." She slurped down her second roll and showed no signs of slowing down.

That was probably what the lower classes called mages, giving them mystical, unwieldy names. "There are four types of mages after the four major elements: fire, water, earth, and air. There's a fifth element, but that's only found in myths and legends. There aren't any mages called … whatever it was you called them."

"Huh."

"And now that you are here, I expect you to fulfill your new role as my familiar."

"Oh?" Lift said, licking her fingers. She seemed amused.

"Yes. Do you understand what a familiar is?" This was the first conversation that Louise had ever held with a commoner, but she decided it was safest to assume that the girl was ignorant of everything until proven otherwise.

"Sure, a familiar is, um …." She glanced at the corner again. Louise followed her gaze, but didn't see anything. "It's what again?"

Louise sighed. "A familiar is expected to protect, fetch things for, and generally serve its master." Though Louise doubted that the girl was strong enough to protect her from anything.

"Hold on." Lift stood up and pointed a finger at Louise. "Am I a slave?"

Louise blanched. "Of course not! Slavery is a barbaric tradition that we expunged from our society long ago. A familiar is completely different!"

"Yeah? How?"

Louise rolled her eyes. "For one, I can't sell you. And trust me, if they let us buy and sell familiars, I would have saved up and bought a dragon."

Lift looked at the runes on her left hand suspiciously. "Keep talkin' lady, 'cause this is startin' to look a whole lot like a slave brand to me."

Louise sighed. She bet that if she had summoned a dragon, it wouldn't be keeping her up all night asking stupid questions, and it _certainly_ wouldn't be questioning the most sacred traditions of the civilized world.

"Do they have slavery where you come from?"

"Uh-huh. Only, they gots their brands on their foreheads."

Ugh. Barbaric. "See? Yours is on your hand, ergo, you are not a slave. Moving on–"

"Hold on," Lift interrupted. "How come I'm your 'familiar?' What did I do? 'Cause where I'm from, you don't end up a slave unless you break some important law, and no one saw me do none of the stuff I did, and the other stuff I got pardoned for!"

"Being made a familiar is not a punishment!" Louise said. "If anything, it's an honor. You should feel honored right now!"

Lift gave her a flat look as though she were being ridiculous. And maybe she was. After all, one couldn't expect a _peasant_ to understand honor.

"Alright," Louise continued. "I know you didn't choose this, but I didn't either. Again, if I could choose my familiar, I would have gone for a dragon. But this is the hand fate dealt us, and we can't oppose the Founder's will." _No matter how much I want to._

Lift studied the mark on her hand and mouthed something to herself when her eyes lit up. "Hold on! Hold on, earlier, when you made me your familiar thingy, you bound me with words, right?"

"I used a spell incantation, yes."

"And now that I'm your familiar thingy, I gotta do what you say, right?"

Louise smiled. "Correct." Finally, they were getting somewhere.

Lift pointed a finger at her. "You're tryin' to make me your pet Voidbringer, ain't ya?"

"Void-what now?"

Lift grinned triumphantly. "But the joke's on you! I ain't no Voidbringer, and you're gonna need more than words to bind me!"

Louise felt a vein bulge in her forehead and she took a deep breath. _Founder_ , her familiar was going to give her an aneurysm, and it was just the first day! "I'm going to start from the beginning. Let me know where I lost you."

It was going to be a long night.

WWW

A/n This is, as far as I can tell, the first Stormlight Familiar of Zero crossover on the internet, courtesy of Magery. He agreed to edit this and was rather surprised when he found out that I had written a story about Lift and hadn't published it.

The cover image was designed by Botanicaxu, who has produced some of the best animesque Cosmere fanart on the internet, and you can find more of her work at botanicaxu dot tumblr dot com. Posted with permission, because Botanicaxu is a wonderful person.

This is my first time writing a character with a street accent, or any accent really, and I don't know how many Stormlight Archive fans are on this site, so I appreciate any reviews you can leave. Thank you.


	2. Chapter 2

Because I'm Awesome

Chapter Two

"There's not one man left who'll stand up, shake his fist at the sun, and roar: 'That ain't the way it should be!'"  
-Unsounded

"As much as I appreciate the irony of the situation," Wyndle said the next morning, "I strongly disadvise staying here any more than necessary, especially near _that_ one, considering what she did to you yesterday."

 _That_ one still slept in her oversized bed. "So she tried to make me her pet Voidbringer," Lift said. "But I can't _be_ a pet Voidbringer if I already have one. Besides, she promised me food if I do what she says." Most of what Louise said didn't make no sense, but Lift understood _that_ part.

"Yes, Mistress," Wyndle said. "It's called getting a job. You've had plenty of opportunities for honest labor in the past, and normally I'd be ecstatic about you veering toward responsibility, but I trust neither that girl's abilities nor her intentions."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll leave after I get bored. In the meantime, I'm supposed to wake her up. Any ideas?" Louise seemed rich, if her giant bed was any indication. Rich folk liked extravagance, so Lift needed to wake her up extravagantly. "I'd put a cremling down her nighty, but I haven't found none here. A bucket of water sounds fun, but not too original."

"I have told you many times before, I am _not_ a Voidbringer, I am a _spren_ , and as such I am incapable of slumber, and so am no expert on the topic of awakening. But, if by 'ideas for waking her up,' you mean 'the worst thing you could possibly do right now,' why don't you just light her bed on fire?"

"That's perfect!" Lift said, a little too loudly.

Louise's eyes fluttered open and she sat up. "Oh, you woke me up on time, just like I told you."

"Um, yes," Lift said. "That's exactly what happened." She'd have to burn her bed tomorrow. "Now come on! You said breakfast happens right now."

"I have to get dressed first."

Oh, right. Rich people had clothes for everything, even sleeping, and they couldn't use their sleep clothes for nothing else. "Then get dressed already!" If they ran out of food before she got there ….

Louise sighed. "I take it you don't have much experience working for nobility." True. "A noble does not dress herself when a servant is present to do so." Louise looked at her. "That means you."

"Me … to do …?"

"To dress me." She stood up and reached her arms into the air.

Lift looked down at Wyndle. "You're the one who wanted to stay," he said.

She grabbed the hem of Louise's nightdress and jumped onto the bed to pull it off over her head. "And now I have to put something on you?"

"I'm certainly not going down to breakfast naked."

"Right, um..." Lift looked around for something she could wear until Louise pointed at a dresser. She grabbed some clothes and put them on her.

"Familiar," Louise said afterwards. "Does this look anything like what I was wearing yesterday?"

Lift hadn't bothered to look too hard the night before. "Yes?"

Louise shook her head. "First of all, this is not a hat. These are panties. They do _not_ go on my head. Also, this is a skirt, not a scarf, and I don't know what you thought my shirt was, but it does _not_ go there. Now try again. We're not going down to eat until you get this right."

Lift's stomach growled.

WWW

It took Lift a few more tries, but Louise was finally satisfied. Or hungry enough not to care. Lift started out hungry enough not to care, but rich folk were picky like that. She followed her down the stairs to breakfast, passing by stone block walls. It was crazy to build a tower this tall and spindly. The next highstorm was going to knock over everything above the cellar, if they had highstorms here, and Wyndle suspected they didn't.

Not that Lift put too much thought into it, not as the smell of her next meal wafted up to her. It smelled so _good_ , savory and spicy and mixed altogether and … and why was Louise walking so _slow_?

They reached a big dining hall full of table and other rich folk eating rich person food. Lift didn't know how much it cost, but she knew how it smelled. Her mouth watered.

Louise sat down and began to eat. The spots next to her were already taken, and as Lift looked for the next nearest seat, Louise pointed at a plate on the floor. "What's that?" she asked.

"Breakfast," Louise said. "No complaints."

Lift looked down. Her plate had a roll and a bowl of soup. Not stew, soup. Louise's plate had fruit, toast, some sort of pastry, and a few things that Lift couldn't even recognize but smelled _amazing._ "I kind of liked it better last night when we was eatin' the same stuffs."

Louise sighed in a perfect Wyndle impersonation. "Last night was an anomaly. I'm a noble, so I eat noble food. You're a commoner, so you eat commoner food. Understand?"

Lift looked around. There didn't seem to be no shortage, no rationing gettin' done, and Louise didn't have nobody else that needed feedin', but that wasn't never the point with rich folk. Rich folk wore rich clothes and ate rich food so everybody would know they were rich. Lift didn't care nothing about their clothes, but their food tasted much better.

Course, "commoner food" was whatever you could get your hands on, and Lift's hands were awesome at that sort of thing. "I understand perfectly, Mistress," Lift said with a smile. "I eat only commoner food."

Louise nodded and turned back to her plate. She didn't start eating, though. At some unseen signal, everyone in the hall closed their eyes and said, "Oh, Great Founder Brimir, and our lady, the Queen, we thank you for this humble meal that you have graciously provided us this morning."

"Wow," Lift said to herself. "I ain't never eaten nothing made by a queen before." Most of the queens she knew of were too busy doing important stuff to do anything useful.

"I believe that may have been meant figuratively, Mistress," Wyndle said, forming a trail of vines at her feet.

"That's not what they said." Lift sat down on the floor and crammed the roll into her mouth. Like eatin' a rock. Lift had experience with that. Hadn't been fun. She downed the soup next. Dirty water with floaty bits. Best not to think about the floaty bits. Then she wiped her mouth on her sleeve and set off to get some real food.

Louise ate slowly. Rich folk always did. It proved that they had fancy eats all the time so it weren't no big deal to them, and they had enough time to eat at their … what was that word again? Leisure! Normal folk might be lazy when they had the chance and they might loiter, but only rich folk had leisure.

Good. She didn't want all the food gone and eaten before she had a bite. She looked around the dining hall. Three long tables, each with people wearing a different different colored cape. Louise and all the black capes sat in the middle table with purple and brown capes on either side. Louise would make a lousy mark, but no one else there knew her.

Halfway down the middle table Lift tapped a better mark on the shoulder. He was a chubby fellow with a mop of blonde hair and, most importantly, he seemed to defer to others. He wouldn't be the sort of bloke that people went out of their way to talk to, so he'd be off balance.

"Mark" turned around in surprise. "Yes, what? Who are … what?"

Perfect. "Excuse me, your lordliness." She made her voice sound meek and deferential, like she never talked to no one as important as him. "Don't mean to interrupt your eatin', sir, but that there miss over there wanted to send a message for you." She pointed to one of the girls at the next table over with all the brown capes. "She says that you caught her eye, and if she catches your eye, then you should knock on her door just after midnight tonight and … catch each other's eyes."

 _His_ eyes bulged as he stared at the other table. "Who, _her_?" he said, pointing.

No, but it didn't matter none. "Yup." She swiped a chicken leg off his plate and slid it into her sleeve. It was a greasy thing, and the sauce was going to make her sleeve delicious. "That's the one."

"Birgetta," he said softly. "Hey, Guiche, you're not dating her, are you?"

Guiche, the boy sitting next to the mark, seemed like the leader of his group judging by how starvin' condescending he was, even compared to his chums. He was blonde too, but not as fat and his white shirt had lacy frills. His face was too pretty and his voice was too musical, so if he wanted to put on a dress he could have passed as a lady.

"Let me think," Guiche said. "Ah, dear Founder, it is difficult to keep track of all the lovely first years. I really should make a list one of these days. Let's see, I'm dating that one, that one, I'm not dating her yet, I used to date _her_ but then she found out about _her_ and we decided to take some time apart …. Now, Birgetta is that one with black hair? No, I do not believe that we are seeing each other." He turned and smiled at the mark, his perfect white teeth sparkling. "Congratulations, Malicorne! I told you that if you spent enough time at my side, the girls would one day find you charming by association! Now, do you remember what I always say about the fairer sex?"

"Um, they have breasts and smell nice?"

"True. Not helpful, but true. But for tonight, you need to remember that girls like flowers and poetry, so if you recite for her a poem comparing her to a flower, blah blah blah blah …."

Lift tuned them out after that. They had already forgotten about her, so she walked away, biting off a chunk of chicken. _Storms_ it tasted good.

WWW

After breakfast, the first class was earth. The magic classes were always in the morning, and the mundane classes like literature and history were in the afternoon. The earth teacher was new and had started teaching that year. Louise didn't know her that well, but she knew basic social psychology enough to understand the importance of a good first impression.

Which would be a whole lot easier if she didn't have her joke of a familiar following her around. As her familiar walked down the hallway with her–not behind her as was proper, but at her _side_ as though she belonged there–each one of her classmates paused to jeer. Even Montmorency smirked at her, and _she_ summoned a frog, for Brimir's sake!

Class started and the teacher, Professor Chevreuse, took her place at the front of the room. She was a plump mage with a purple robe and a matching hat and a cheerful smile as she looked around the room. "Well, it seems like the Springtime Familiar Summoning was a _huge_ success. In the future after your familiars are finished imprinting, you'll be expected to keep them outside during classes, but I for one love to see the brand new creatures crawling around."

The teacher's gaze travelled across the room, passing over the summoned snakes, owls, ravens, and cats. It stopped when it got to Lift. "My, Miss Valliere," Chevreuse said. "That is quite the unique familiar you have summoned."

The class sniggered at the comment as Louise felt her stomach drop, but Lift stood up straight and crossed her arms. "That's right. Ain't no one in the world like me."

The class sniggered again, and Montmorency said to no one in particular, "It's a _commoner_. They're all over the place."

Lift could have ignored the jab, but why would the universe give Louise a prudent familiar when it could have given her a lippy one? "So are snobby blondes," Lift said. "What's your point?"

The class gasped, except for Kirche who burst out laughing, though Germanians never had a firm grasp of propriety. "Familiar!" Louise hissed. "That's no way to talk to a noble!"

"Oh, right," Lift replied. "What's your point, your ladyness?"

"Wow," Montmorency said in mock surprise. "Between its magical skill and manners, that familiar is perfect for you, Zero!"

Louise snapped her head toward her. "Why don't you mind your business and get back to kissing your frog, Flood? If you're lucky it will turn into a prince!"

Montmorency's face soured. "It's Fragrance! Montmorency the _Fragrance_!"

"Enough!" Chevreuse said. "Both of you! Nobles should behave better than this! I don't want to hear a peep out of any of you for the rest of class. And, Miss Valliere? Do try to keep better control of your familiar."

Right. Keep control of her familiar. As easy as casting spells.

Chevreuse began her lecture. It was a review, explaining the different elements and classes. Louise knew it already, but she recognized the importance of a firm knowledge of the basics.

The same could not have been said concerning her familiar. Lift sat down and began fidgeting and muttering to herself. Louise caught the word, "Void," but nothing else. Void was the legendary fifth element that Founder Brimir used, but the night before Lift used the term, "Voidbringer," whatever that was. Probably commoner nonsense.

Lift's fidgets grew until she was practically writhing in an unladylike, distracting fashion, and then flopped over on her back.

"What are you _doing_?" Louise demanded, her voice barely more than a whisper.

"I'm dying," Lift groaned.

Louise's eyes widened. "What?" How? She hadn't even been her familiar for a day!

"This place is killing me," Lift said weakly. "I'm dying of boredom."

Louise slammed the palm of her hand into her face and rolled her eyes. "That is a figure of speech, familiar. One cannot literally die of–"

Lift spasmed and let out a breath, letting her tongue hang out as her eyes rolled back. Louise sighed as faux rigor mortis set into her familiar, and kicked her.

"Oomf!"

Ha! Not dead!

"Miss Valliere!"

Louise looked up quickly. "Yes, Professor Chevreuse?"

"Is there something that you would like to share with the class?"

"No, Professor."

"Then perhaps you would like to demonstrate this principle?"

"Principle?"

"Yes. Just turn this pebble into a metal of your choosing." She pointed to a lump of clay on her table. "I trust you were paying attention?"

"Um, yes, Professor, but …."

Kirche waved her arm in the air and spoke up. "Excuse me, Professor? Maybe you could pick someone else?"

"And why is that, Miss Zerbst?"

"Because she'll kill us all!"

The rest of the class nodded in agreement, and Louise caught a few phrases like "total devastation," and "eldritch horror," which she thought was a bit of an exaggeration.

The teacher sighed. "Now, I'll have none of that, class. If you never try, you'll never succeed. Come down here and give it a try, Miss Valliere. It's a basic spell, and even if you get it wrong, you'll still learn something. And no one is going to laugh. Right?" She shot the class as intimidating a glare as she could manage, but the other students looked more likely to run than laugh.

Louise took a bit of pleasure from that. They seemed perfectly willing to laugh at her earlier, and who's to say that she wouldn't get lucky? After all, it was statistically impossible for her to fail _every_ spell; she had proven that yesterday when she had _successfully_ summoned Lift. Sure, a commoner wasn't the familiar she had wanted, but the spell did not fail! And if she could succeed once, she could succeed more than once, and if that once was _this_ once then maybe ….

She stood up and walked to the front of the room.

"Founder, no!" Guiche cried out. "I'm too pretty to die!" He ducked under his desk, and many of his classmates discovered the appeal of a small, wooden barricade between them and the horrors Louise would undoubtedly unleash.

They would feel so foolish when nothing happened besides a bit of alchemy.

She pointed her wand at the lump of clay and visualized it turning into brass. " _El nish et nora kem. El nish et dosh._ " Experienced mages could reduce the incantation to nothing more than the spell's name, but Louise always went all the way to put as much Willpower as she could into her spells. The spells often blew up in her face, but while people could say she failed, no one could say she didn't try. And that alone counted for something. Didn't it?

" _Transmute!_ " she said, finishing her spell. It blew up in her face.

Everything she could put into the spell exploded in a flash of light, vaporizing the clay and reducing the table to rubble. The explosion threw Louise back, slamming her into the wall and knocking the wind out of her. Dazed, she looked around and saw the chaos she had unleashed.

Professor Chevreuse was still alive. She wasn't conscious, lying on the floor, but Louise's devastation had yet to claim a life. Still, her chances of making a good first impression on her teacher were as shattered as the classroom windows through which some of the panicked familiars had fled. Some of the other creatures had panicked and regressed to their base instincts and began devouring each other, causing a number of mages to peek out from beneath the safety of their desks to find their beloved pets swallowed whole.

"Lucky! No! Spit him out! Spit him out right now! No, Lucky! _Why?_ "

It was the sort of thing that could inspire a grudge. Louise pulled a handkerchief from her pocket to wipe soot from her face as her peers' inevitable wave of less than constructive criticism washed over her.

"See? I told you! I told you this would happen!"

"Quit school already before you kill someone!"

"Yeah, Zero! Snap your wand and go home!"

"Thank the Founder my face is still attached to my head!"

" _That was AWESOME_!"

Louise opened her eyes in surprise at the last part. While her classmates remained huddled behind desks and glaring at her, her familiar stood with her long black hair even more disordered than usual with a look of pure wonder on her face.

It was the first piece of positive reinforcement that Louise Françoise de La Valliere had _ever_ received.

WWW

Louise got scolded lots and had to clean up the classroom on account of her blowing the place up, and Lift had to help her on account of everyone expecting her to be a good pet Voidbringer, but mostly because if she waited for Louise to finish the job, they'd miss lunch. And there was no starvin' way that Lift was gonna miss lunch.

They were about halfway done with the room before Louise broke down. "I hate my life."

Lift looked up from a table she had been wiping down. She found out that she could put Awesomeness into the surface and make it look like it had been polished, which was interesting, even if it was a boring waste of Awesomeness.

"What's wrong with it? You get rich folk food, er, at least two times a day, and if we get done in time it's gonna be three!"

Lift didn't get how rich people could be miserable while eating food. It took a special kind of accustomed extravagance to eat and cry at the same time.

"There's more to life than food, you know." Yup, accustomed extravagance. Lift guessed that Louise had never been hungry before. "I'm a noble from a respected house! I have _expectations_."

"Sounds horrible," Lift admitted. People who knew Lift well expected her to be a master thief, but she had _earned_ those expectations. It seemed a lousy business to inherit something like that, like being force fed gemhearts.

"It wouldn't be if could live up to them! But every time I cast a spell, it _literally_ blows up in my face."

Lift frowned thoughtfully. "Nope."

"What?"

"That ain't true."

"First of all," Louise said, "that _isn't_ true, and second of all, that most certainly is true!" And she managed to keep a straight face all through it. It was amazing what people could make themselves say. "I believe I have more experience observing the results of my attempted spells than you do."

"Oh, I wasn't arguin' _that_ part," Lift said. "I'm sayin' that if you fulfilled every expectation folks gave you, you'd still be miserable."

Louise frowned. "What? Elaborate. Your master commands you."

Lift resisted the urge to roll her eyes. _Your master commands you_? _That_ was gonna get old fast. "If you only do what you're expected to, then you'll never do nothin' surprising, and you'll never _be_ nothin' surprising, and you'll be boring all your life."

Louise sighed. "I think Professor Chevreuse would have preferred something a tad more boring, and I'm pretty sure I just failed the entire semester, and I'm only a week into it!"

"Nope," Lift said. "You beat up teacher. That means you get to graduate early."

Louise shook her head in frustration. "I don't know how people do things in that Roshar place of yours, but here in Tristain we do not have Academia by Combat."

Lift blinked. "Then how the storms _do_ you prove you did your learnin'?"

"Through tests and homework assignments."

Lift stared at her. "And you _prefer_ it that way?"

Louise sighed and turned away. "Get back to work."

WWW

They finished in time for lunch, and that was what really mattered. Lunch for Lift was just a hard roll and a bowl of soup, but she didn't mind doing some good honest thievin' for some decent eats. In fact, that's what made things interesting.

"So Voidbringer," she said under her breath as she sat down on the dining hall floor to eat, "how can we help Louise to stop trying to be boring on purpose?"

Wyndle swirled beneath her on the floor, a face forming out of the mass of vines. "I imagine the surest method would be to stay by her side and be a negative influence on her well-ordered life. Though why you would spontaneously choose _now_ to begin listening to me, I cannot imagine."

"I listen to you. When you're not whining. Or tryin' to trick me."

"I have _never_ tried to trick you, Mistress!"

"And that's exactly what a Voidbringer would say."

"I am _not_ a … nevermind. It's not worth the mental fatigue."

Lift gulped down the soup and pocketed the roll just in case she needed to chuck it at someone later, and then she looked around for a distraction.

And she found one. Just a few tables away, she saw a vial of something purple on the floor. Someone must have dropped it. Lift didn't like purple much; it usually tasted sour, and when it was sweet, it was _too_ sweet, but purpleness was usually expensive, and rich people liked expensive stuff no matter how bad it tasted.

She could just pick up the vial, tap someone on the shoulder and say, "Excuse me, did you drop this?" And the person would look at the vial and he wouldn't notice Lift stealing his … _cake_!

The main course was nearly finished, and Lift spotted a squadron of servants in black and white uniforms carrying trays full of little cakes on little trays. Lift twitched a bit when she saw that; cake did that to her.

Okay, new plan. She'd wait until the cakes were passed out, and then she'd do what she did best.

One of the maids passed by, distributing treasures that would put the largest of gemhearts to shame. She set a plate on the table in front of Louise and kept going. Lift waited for her to pass by the spot where the vial was lying– _when she picked it up!_

It was one of those times when Lift wished she knew better cusses. And she bet that the maid wasn't going gonna steal it or use it or nothing! She'd probably just return it to its rightful owner out of the goodness of her heart like a good little axehound.

Lift gritted her teeth as she saw the maid do just that. Now she'd have to come up with another plan, and fast, because dessert wasn't gonna last. Should she try to play matchmaker again? That had worked for breakfast, but Lift had been lucky. Besides, if she started getting predictable, she'd start getting caught too.

Maybe she could nab a plate off a maid. Those girls seemed the sort to do what they were told without asking questions or nothin'. She could pretend that she was doing what she was supposed to be doing, say that they had missed someone, and–

"Ugh, coconut!" Louise said, turning her nose up at her dessert plate. "Why would the chef ruin a perfectly good cake with _coconut_?" She handed it to Lift. "Here, you eat it. I've lost my appetite."

For a moment Lift tried to remain cynical and tell herself that rich folk had so much they was always trying to find new ways to throw it out, but it wasn't easy staying untrusting while holding cake. Stealing food was more fun than buying it, but a gift … that was an offering on the altar of the Temple of Hunger it was.

"Just be sure you don't … inhale it, too late." Louise sighed. "Lovely. Now it's all over your face– _don't use your_ … sleeve. We'll have to work on that before I bring you out in public again. And speaking of the public, we should go before people remember how hilarious you are."

She stood up and walked away, expecting Lift to follow her. And she did, having no reason not to, until she heard a loud _smack_. It was the boy the maid had handed the purple vial to. Lift recognized him from that morning, the fat kid's friend who was too pretty. Now he had a red handprint on his face. It suited him.

Louise glanced back and rolled her eyes as though this sort of thing happened every day, sidestepping a girl who ran sobbing past her. And maybe it did, but Lift hadn't been around long enough to get used to it.

Common or not, the scene still drew a crowd. Most of the audience looked amused, but the maid, the one that had gone and picked up the vial, she was still there and she looked _terrified_. That wasn't right. When everyone else was laughing and you were afraid, it was because you _knew_ something … something that Lift didn't.

A second girl ran up to the middle of things with a frown on her face. Lift recognized her from earlier, with her curly blonde hair. Mount … something. Mount Mormont? Something like that.

"Who was that?" she demanded.

The boy … what was his name? Gauche? Goosh? He started sweating, like he knew he oughta run, but he wanted to push luck he didn't have instead. "That, um, that was a misunderstanding, nothing more. Also, I believe this is her time of the month. And have I ever told you that you look cute when you're mad? Because you really–"

The girl grabbed a half-full glass of red wine and splashed it in his face. "You know what? I don't want to hear it. I don't want to hear your excuses, your _lies_! I don't even want to see you anymore, Guiche! We're through!"

Guiche! That was his name. He watched her stomp off, the wine dripping from his face and staining his shirt.

"Wow, twice in a row, Guiche!" one of the other nobs said, a shorter one with specs.

"Yeah, keep this up and by the end of the day you'll be single!"

They gave snobby, rich folk chuckles, 'cause rich folk couldn't just laugh at a person, they had to laugh and act dignified about it too. As they laughed, Guiche's face turned as red as the wine on his face, and he turned on the maid in a rage.

"Do you have any idea what you've _done_?" he demanded.

The maid took a step back. "I am so sorry, Lord Guiche, I–"

Guiche grabbed her arm before she could get away. "Sorry? You ruined my shirt, tarnished my reputation, and worst of all, you made those two girls cry! _Sorry_ isn't good enough!" He raised his other hand as if to slap her when Lift decided to intervene.

She was too far away to bite him and she didn't have time to throw anything, though she kept the rock bread in her pocket just in case, so she did the one thing she could.

She laughed.

"Ha ha ha! Oh, you shoulda seen the look on your face! Smack smack!" She didn't give a dignified chuckle like rich folk, she let out a _real_ laugh, as loud and as obnoxious as possible. And she pointed her finger too for good measure.

Guiche let go of the maid and turned to face her. "Do you think this is funny?"

She grinned at him. She loved it when a plan came together. Now if the maid would just show some sense and get out of there, it would be starvin' perfect. "Hilarious! Best show I've seen all day."

Guiche glared at her. The red dripping from his face started to look more like blood than wine, like he had stabbed someone and stuck his nose in it. "Do you have any idea who I am?"

Lift shrugged. "Dumped?"

"I am Guiche the Bronze, youngest son of General Gramont! I will not stand here and be insulted by peasants!"

 _Get outta here, lady!_ But the maid stayed in place watching the exchange like a chicken staring at the rain. Lift feigned surprise. "Oh, I had no idea! See, I just thought that since I saw two girls dump you, it meant you done got dumped! But I guess violence and insults is how folks express love in these parts. If that's the case, I bet you get loved lots!"

The crowd laughed. They weren't on her side, she knew, but they enjoyed entertainment where they found it. Lift didn't mind providing it, but Guiche seemed to. "That's it! You clearly need a lesson in manners, and I shall do the world a favor and teach you some."

"Bring on the learnin', then. This is a school, ain't it?"

"Quite. If you refuse to apologize for your insults, then I, Guiche the Bronze, challenge you to a duel!"

"Um, Mistress?" Wyndle said at her feet. "I would strongly advise against–"

"Done!" She was in more trouble than she had planned, but she decided to go with her gut and right then her gut was full of cake. The maid gasped and ran away. Finally.

Guiche pulled a lacy cloth from his pocket and wiped the wine from his face. "Meet me in Vestri Court in fifteen minutes. Go to that place, and you'll learn yours."

"Lookin' forward to it." She didn't know where Vestri Court was, but she didn't plan on showing up neither.

The crowd dispersed now that the show was over, and as Lift turned away she nearly bumped into Louise.

"Lift! Where have you been? I was halfway to my room before I realized you weren't following me!"

She didn't seem to have seen her accept the duel. Good. "I stopped to watch that kid Guiche get dumped! It was hilarious, Louise, you shoulda seen it!"

She rolled her eyes. "You get used to that sort of thing eventually. He made a scene, didn't he?"

"Yup."

"And he made a fool of himself too, correct?"

"Oh yeah."

"What was it this time? Did he sign over his soul again and declare his undying love in verse?"

"Nope. He challenged someone to a duel."

Her eyes widened, but only slightly. " _Boys_. They always seem half drunk on their own testosterone. Why can't they solve their problems with cruel gossip and veiled insults like civilized people?"

Lift shrugged. "It's more entertainin' this way."

Louise sighed. "Well, whatever." She turned and started back to her room. "Come along, and try not to get lost this time."

WWW

Louise sat at her desk in her bedroom studying literature, or at least making a valiant attempt. If she wasn't going to pass any of her magic classes this semester (and if today's experience with Professor Chevreuse was any indication, she wouldn't), then she would have to excel perfectly in her mundane ones, and that meant working her way through the works of the Bard Baron Bartholomew, the first, last, and–for some reason–most famously successful of the one man line of Bard Barons.

She realized that she had been staring at the same line in one of his sonnets ("But the bitter burning of the violet violence of my heart did beat") for a good ten minutes when Guiche of all people charged into her room.

"Ah ha!" he said, throwing the door open and pointing at her familiar. "Thought you could hide from me, did you?"

Lift waved at him with one eye open, lying on her pile of straw. "Yo."

"Guiche?" Louise gasped. "What are you doing here? This is my _bedroom_!"

Guiche turned to her. "My apologies, Louise. I'll just borrow your familiar and be on my way."

Louise waved a finger at him. "No, you'll leave my familiar alone and be on your way."

"There's really no need for you to get involved," he said. "And if you knew what she did, you'd stay out of this."

"What, did she barge into someone's room without even knocking?" Louise asked. "Because, _Founder_ , Guiche, I could have been changing in here!" Honestly, this was the sort of behavior she'd expect from Kirche!

"Your familiar stood me up!"

Louise stared at him with surprise and then growing disgust. "Sick, Guiche. Does shame mean nothing to you? First of all, she's a commoner, and second of all, she's … how old are you?"

Lift held up all her fingers. "This many."

"Ten? Really? I would have guessed that you were at least thirteen."

"Nope," she said. "There ain't no luck in being that age."

"Well, no, but I don't see what that has to do with … nevermind. Anyway Guiche, she's a ten-year-old commoner, and both too young and too old for you. You should stick to girls in your own age and social group."

Guiche blinked. "What? No, you misunderstand. She didn't stand me up on a date, she stood me up on a duel!"

Louise stared at him. "Wow. Well, in the risk of repeating myself, first of all, she's a commoner, and second of all, she's–"

"She insulted me! She insulted me in public, and she laughed at me. If I do not receive restitution in penitence, I will take it in punishment."

"She _laughed_ at you," Louise repeated. "What, did you make a fool of yourself in public?"

"Yup," Lift said from her pile of straw.

"I did no such thing!" Guiche protested. "Your familiar is ill mannered, and if you refuse to rectify that, then I will."

"I am aware of her crass nature, and as her master I recognize my responsibility in educating her," Louise said cooly. "But if you _dare_ usurp my position in that regard, then know that an attack on my familiar is an attack on me, and an attack on me is an attack on my house. You may have made several poor decisions today, Guiche, but you do _not_ want to attack my house."

By all rights he should have been intimidated. Her mother could say something like that and make grown men wet themselves, and _she_ had retired twenty years ago, but Guiche just scoffed. "Your house may be high and mighty out there, Louise, but within the Academy walls, you are _Zero_."

Her eyes widened and her face felt hot. There was a line and Guiche had crossed it. The Academy ran amok with petty rivalries, but those were fiercely segregated. Louise would engage in snide insults and gossip with her female classmates, and the boys in her year would do … whatever it was boys did to each other, but the sexes kept things separate. Always.

And in the back of her mind, there was the phrase she had mentioned to her familiar earlier that day.

 _Academia by combat._

"Suppose I dueled you in her stead," Louise suggested.

"Suppose you what?"

"Yes." She smiled. Louise had always been a somber child and had grown into a somber young woman. These days, she only smiled when she was furious. "After all, a familiar's successes are her master's successes, as are her failures, as are, one might suppose, her dueling agreements."

"I'm not …"

"And I'm sure that _Guiche the Bronze_ would have no difficulty defeating Louise the _Zero_."

"Okay, look, I may have …"

"And I'm sure Professor Chevreuse would agree." She smiled as all his bluster and confidence turned to dust, and she realized how the rest of her family could be so intimidating when they need to be. They did not hide behind the family name; they _built_ it.

Guiche swallowed. "As much as I would like to, um, do that, the Academy rules are quite clear on the matter of the nobility dueling nobility, and I have to worry about my education! But I see you are quite set in your course, so I'll be the gentleman and relinquish your familiar from her dueling agreement."

Louise nodded. "That may be the first smart choice you made today."

"And really, teaching your familiar manners is your responsibility, and I have absolute confidence in your ability in that regard."

"Finally we agree."

"And if anyone's to blame for my predicament, it's that idiot maid and her clumsy indiscretions."

Lift, who had been lying on her straw pile, sat bolt upright. "What?"

Guiche straightened his back confidently and ignored her. "So while you're dealing with things here, I'll be helping said servant understand what is and is not proper behavior. Or one of them at least. Honestly, I doubt they can even tell themselves apart."

Louise smirked at him as he turned to leave, until Lift stood up and ruined everything. "Okay," she said. "I'll play your stupid dueling game."

He turned around. "What?"

"Right, sorry," Lift said. "I'll play your stupid dueling game, your _lordliness_."

Guiche blinked. "That's not the proper form of address, but …"

"Hold that thought," Louise said. " _What_?"

Lift rolled her eyes. "For the third time, I'll–"

"Actually, allow me to rephrase that," Louise said. "No, you will do no such thing."

"I kinda think I will."

"No, you …." She turned to Guiche. "You. Out."

"But–"

She pointed her wand at him. "Out!"

Guiche smiled. "Please, we both know that the only thing you can do with that wand is blow stuff … I'll be leaving now." He closed the door after him. Finally. In retrospect, she should have opened with that. Threatened violence got _results_.

She turned to her familiar. "You just watched me go through all that work to get you out of this mess, and now you want to get back in it."

"Yup."

"Explain!"

Lift shrugged. "That Geetch guy is having a really bad day, and he won't feel better none till he takes it out on someone that can't fight back."

Louise stared at her. "And you wish to _be_ that someone?"

"Yup. 'Cause he only _thinks_ I can't fight back."

"Can you?"

"Ha! No. Fightin's for chumps. What, did ya think I got this far in life by _accommodatin'_ all them folks who wanted a piece of me? Nope. I got this far by being awesome."

"So you plan to fight him by … not fighting him?"

"Trust me, he'll be begging me to stop, before you know it."

"Begging you to stop not fighting him?" No, Lift's words didn't make any more sense when Louise said them.

"Because …?"

"Because I'm awesome."

Louise shook her head. "No. No, see, not fighting him is what you are doing _now_ and the exact opposite of what you're planning to do. Why can't you not fight him up here?"

Lift looked around the room. "There ain't enough room. To not fight right, you need space, and loads of it."

"No, I mean, why do need to duel him at all? He's _gone_."

"Yup. Off to take everything out on someone that can't fight back."

Ah. "Well, I'm sure that whatever maid he was referring to will be fine. Besides, servants need to know not to provoke the nobility." Founder, that sounded _bad_ when she said it out loud. "But she is not my responsibility, _you_ are, and I forbid you from fighting him. Or not fighting him. I forbid you from dueling him."

"And 'cause you said the words, I gotta do what you say?" Lift asked.

"Correct."

"Them's the rules?"

"Yes, those are the rules."

Lift stared at her stonily, and Louise found herself in her first power struggle with her familiar. She had read that some familiars were more willful than others, and that it was important to present them with an iron will from the start. No, not iron, _steel_.

"You seem rich," Lift said finally. "You rich?"

She frowned. "Why?"

"Rich family? Lots of important, influential folk?"

"Yes, we Vallieres are highly esteemed."

"Big house?"

"The estate is rather expansive, yes. What is your point?"

"I didn't. I grew up on the street, and not just any street, but nearly every street. Which barely means nothing 'cause they're all pretty much the same. A lot goes on down there that no one knows about, 'cause the first and last street rule is that you didn't see nothin', you didn't do nothin', and you weren't there. No one looks out for no one 'cause everyone knows that no one's gonna look out for you."

"Now, that doesn't make any sense," Louise said. "Because it sounds like you're trying to do the exact opposite."

"Yup. 'Cause I ain't never been good at followin' no stupid rules."

Louise stared at her, trying to stand her ground. The Rule of Steel meant that she _could not_ back down. But … with her familiar trying to do the right–no, the _honorable_ thing, maybe she wasn't the one Louise should have been standing up to. And besides, what was the point of honor if it couldn't bear a bit of folly?

"Guiche's family specializes in constructs, so expect him to send a low level golem at you. Duels end when one of the combatants can no longer fight, so if you can get past his summon and grab the rose he uses as a wand, you might have a chance."

WWW

Some days being awesome could get Lift into more trouble than it was worth. Today was not one of those days.

"After all the trouble it took getting you to come here," Guiche said outside on the grounds, "the two minutes it's going to take to teach you the manners you so desperately need is going to reek of anticlimax. Now all that remains is to select a judicator."

"A what?" Lift asked.

"Referee, judge, someone to overlook the duel and declare the winner." He looked at the crowd that had gathered around them, and approached a girl with curly blonde hair. "Sweet Montmorency, might your beauteous face grace this–"

"You can't be serious," she said. Lift recognized her as one of the girls who had dumped him that day.

"I am as serious as the sun is radiant and the moons are pure. There is no one I would rather–"

"Guiche Gramont, I am _not_ speaking to you! And if you keep speaking to me, I will need to start not yelling at you too, and I might even not slap you a few times for good measure."

He wilted and the crowd chuckled at him. He didn't seem to like getting laughed at none. Lift could use that.

"Hey, how about Louise?" Lift suggested.

Guiche scoffed. "Your master is hardly an unbiased judge."

"Look," Louise said. "If it will get this farce over with more quickly, then there is only one completely unbiased individual who is not a teacher and, as a bonus, might actually know the rules." She turned to a blue haired girl with glasses who was sitting under a nearby tree reading a book. "Excuse me, Tabitha, would you mind–"

"Reading."

"But we need–"

"Reading."

"Let her be," another girl said. She was tall with long red hair and tan skin, and looked like she had a bit of Horneater in her. "If you really need a judicator, I'll do it."

"What?" Louise gasped. "No! Not a chance, Kirche von Zerbst! I do not agree to this!"

"Yes, but you're not involved in this anymore, Valliere."

"That's my familiar over there! I'm feeling pretty involved."

"And if she can survive you, she can survive him." The girl, Kirche, turned to Guiche. "Well? What do you say?"

He nodded. "Yes, I find you acceptable."

"And you?" she said, looking at Lift.

Louise shook her head violently and mouthed the word, "no" over and over. "Sure, why not?" Louise smacked herself on the forehead. "Let's get this game started already! All these rules are making things boo-ro-cratical!" That was a fancy word for boring. Azir had been drowning in boo-ro-cracy.

"Alright!" Kirche said. "Lords and ladies, boys and girls, and Louise, here we have Guiche the Bronze dueling against the Familiar of Zero! Let the duel–"

"Lift," Lift said.

"What?"

"The name's Lift. You gotta get it right."

"Lift, right. Hey, do you have a title or a surname or something?"

"Sure. I'm awesome."

Kirche struggled to keep a straight face. "Okay then. Guiche the Bronze versus Lift the Awesome. Fight!"

Guiche waved his flower around, scattering petals. "Now you will learn what it means to challenge nobility! Arise, my Valkyrie!"

One of the petals turned into a flash of light, and a suit of armor holding a spear grew out of the ground. It might not have been awesome, but it was neat, and there was only one thing Lift could do in her situation. She laughed at it.

"Your floating armor has breasts!" she said, pointing.

Guiche blinked. "Well, yes, Valkyries are mystical–"

"It's a booby knight!"

His face started to turn pink. "No, it's a–"

"Booby knight!"

He ground his teeth. "Booby– _Valkyrie_ , shut her up."

The booby knight swung at her with the butt of its spear, so Lift sat down on the grass, ducking underneath it. It followed with an overhead swing, and Lift made her butt slick and slid out of the way.

"So tell me," she said, "on a scale of one to wearing a dress in front of a mirror, how single were you when you designed this thing?" The crowd laughed, and the more they laughed, the angrier Guiche got. And the angrier he got, the more his booby knight thrashed around. While both of them started out condescending and dismissive, Guiche had become red-faced and the booby knight was in a frenzy.

Lift had to become more and more Awesome to keep up, the storm coursing through her veins heightening her speed and reflexes. And, for some reason, the words of Darkness echoed in her mind.

He had called her an Edgedancer. Wyndle did that too, sometimes. _A glorious order … elegant things of beauty … move through the battlefield like a ribbon on the wind._

A single booby knight didn't make it a battlefield, but right then Lift felt like she could out-ribbon a skyeel. She dove between its legs, made her belly Slick, and slid underneath it. She jumped to her feet in time to throw herself at Guiche and–

"Levitate!" he said, pointing his wand at her, and Lift was lifted off her feet. "There! Now you see that–"

"I'm flying!" Lift felt like she was being held up by the air itself. She twisted around, trying to maneuver herself. "This is so cool!"

"What? No, you're supposed to be horrified as the realization dawns on you that you are entirely in my–"

"Send me higher! I wanna see how high I can go!"

"This is a duel, not a carnival! I am your opponent, and you are mine!"

"Can you send me over that wall?" She grinned at him. "I know you want to."

Guiche sighed. "Normally, I'd worry about how being seen beating a small child would affect my reputation, but you are worth it. Valkyrie, beat her senseless."

Well, that wasn't how she had hoped the game to end, but it didn't surprise her none. She got the people to laugh, mostly at him, and there wasn't nothing in the world she wasn't awesome enough to heal from. All the same, she made her whole body Slick so the booby knight's blows could slide off of her–and fell to the ground, like she had slipped through the grasp of the air itself.

She felt the wind of the spear right above her as she dropped down, and Guiche looked at her seeming as surprised as she felt. But Lift was better at improvising, so while he was busy saying, "How did you," she was jumping at him.

Or more precisely, at his wand. He tried to pull away, but she only needed to touch it to make it Slick enough to squeeze out of his grip. 'Cause she might not have been a good fighter, but Lift was a master thief.

Of course, when she tried to snatch it out of the air, it was still Slick and fell to the ground between them. Right. She'd have to work on that later.

Guiche dove for the wand, but Lift kicked it out of the way. She ran for it, and he tripped her and tried to crawl over her. He grabbed the wand, but before he could use it, she squirmed around underneath him, reached into his pocket out of principle, grabbed him by the arm, and bit him in the wrist.

"Ow!"

He dropped the wand and Lift grabbed it. Wyndle, a vine growing through the grass, provided a handhold for her to pull herself out all the way. Guiche grabbed onto her hair, which did absolutely nothing.

"Catfight!" someone from the crowd called out. Lift didn't know what a cat was, but it sounded fierce. She rolled to her feet and raised the wand triumphantly.

"Wait!" Guiche said, standing up. "This fight is not over!"

"Yeah it is," Lift said. "I got your wand. That means I win, don't it?" She looked at the Kirche girl. "Don't it?"

"The fight ends when one of the combatants can no longer fight," Guiche said. "If only one of them can use magic, then he clearly is the winner, but right now neither of us can."

"Well," Kirche said. "Normally I'd call it done, but this affair has been really entertaining, so go ahead and keep going."

"What?" Louise demanded. "Do you know nothing about basic dueling regulations?"

"Of course I do. They all agree that I'm in charge. So deal with it."

"You heard her," Guiche said. He balled his hands into fists and looked at them hesitantly, as though unsure how fists were supposed to work. "We're down to good old fashioned fisticuffs." He glanced at his booby knight. "Unless … Valkyrie, attack!" The booby knight stood motionless.

Lift grinned. "I guess it ain't listening to you, now that you don't have your wand no more. Me, on the other hand …." She flourished the wand just like she had seen him do and said, "Booby knight! Deck 'im in the schnozz!" It stood still until a gentle breeze knocked it over.

Well, that didn't work out. And since stealing the wand didn't end the fight, she would have to, well, fight now. Lift could steal anything she needed to, but she hadn't never beaten up no one. This was exactly what she had wanted to avoid. And now she was hungry. She looked down at the flower in her hand. It smelled nice. Maybe it tasted nice too? She bit down on it–and spat it out. No. No it did not taste nice.

"Hey! That's my wand! Why would you do that? First you bite me, and now you bite my wand? What is wrong with you?"

She shrugged. "Being Awesome makes me hungry. Do you lot have a meal between lunch and dinner? 'Cause I don't think I can wait that long."

"What? You insolent little … you're not eating anything until this is over!"

"Okay, fine," she said. She walked up to him with her hands in her pockets while he still tried to figure out how fists worked, and she swung her leg out, making one of his feet Slick and tripping him. His Slick foot shot out away from him and he fell to the ground doing the splitz.

" _AAAAOOOHHH_!"

"Well," Kirche said. "I know I've seen enough. The winner is–"

" _AAH! AH AH AAH!"_

"I _said_ the winner is–"

" _AAH! OOH AHAEH EAGH!"_

"Quit being such a drama queen, Guiche! You lost already!"

WWW

Professor Colbert stared at Headmaster Osmond's scrying mirror long after the duel was concluded. It was Osmond's idea to allow the duel to take place, and it had seemed a perfectly logical method of testing Colbert's theory, but life always ended up a few steps ahead of logic.

For example, if Colbert was wrong, then they would have been allowing a spoiled noble vent his frustrations on an unarmed child. But if he was correct, then they would have been allowing a dot-class mage to fight a half-forgotten legend reborn in the modern day, a force capable of defeating armies single handedly and walking away unscathed. Neither was a situation that Colbert would be able to explain to the parents of those affected or to his own conscience.

Life, in this case, took over the situation and told them nothing at all. The only bright side was that, with the exception of Guiche's pride, reputation, and hamstrings, no one was hurt.

"Well," Colbert said at last, "the girl did win."

Osmond smoked his pipe thoughtfully. His secretary, Miss Longueville, didn't allow him to smoke, so he only took out his pipe when she wasn't around. He also only took out his scrying mirror when she wasn't around, but he didn't explain why. "Yes, but that didn't prove anything. She could have just been lucky."

If Miss Valliere's familiar had displayed superhuman speed and strength, that would have leaned toward empirical evidence, but the girl, while agile, resembled more a child playing a game than a legend brought to life.

"It takes more than luck for a commoner to defeat a mage," Colbert said. "But Mr. Gramont was awfully overconfident."

Osmond nodded. "And besides, she didn't glow."

"Um, glow, sir?"

"Yes, glow. It's a basic rule in magic that when magic happens, something has to glow."

"I do not believe that is a universal phenomenon, Headmaster."

"Of course it is. Transmutation? It glows. The familiar summoning spell itself? It glows. With any major spell, there's glowing."

"Levitation? Telekinesis? Most basic spells, especially non-elementals, contradict that."

"Bah! Those are cantrips! That familiar, by your own admission, bears the mark of Gandalfr! This is a legend we're dealing with, if we're dealing with anything at all! Something has to glow!" Osmond fell silent for a moment as he puffed on his pipe. "Maybe she was glowing too softly to see. It is quite sunny out. That's it! Just trap her in a dark cave and have her attacked by some horrible subterranean monster! Trolls would work. Yes, trolls. That would yield results."

Colbert stared at him. "Um, sir, there are serious ethical implications to consider with that scenario."

Osmond leaned back in his chair. "Oh, I'm sure society won't miss a few trolls. It's not like they're endangered or anything." He sat up. "They aren't, are they?"

"No sir."

"Perfect! Then it's settled."

Osmond was not always the easiest man to explain things to because he was, like the rest of the faculty, a scholar at heart, and for each thing he understood perfectly, there was at least one he could not grasp at all.

"I have an alternative idea, Headmaster. The stories pay special attention to Gandalfr's abilities with weapons, so if I give the child a weapon–"

"And she can slay a troll with it …."

"Let's leave the trolls out of the experiment."

"Ah."

"But if she shows special, nay, superhuman, no, _legendary_ abilities with weapons, then we can conclude that the marks on her hand are more than a coincidence."

Osmond nodded in approval. "And if that doesn't work, you can always try the trolls later."

"No sir. Sending a child against a troll remains an unjustifiably unethical course of action, and I can have no part in it."

"Oh."

WWW

A/n And that concludes chapter two. I would like to thank Magery, Stone Mason, and the Glorious Sublime Princess Mei-tan for editing it. Also, I would like to thank everyone who left a review, because without you, there would be no continuation.

The quote is from a webcomic called Unsounded, and the protagonist shares several characteristics with Lift, so feel free to look into it.


	3. Chapter 3

Because I'm Awesome

Chapter Three

"I will remember those who have been forgotten."  
-Stormlight Archive

Lift didn't normally like being Awesome in public. It made people ask questions and start rumors, but with everyone flying around whenever they felt like it and blowing stuff up all the time, she figured that a bit of Awesomeness wouldn't hurt none.

And if rumors did start to cause trouble, she could leave. She'd done it so many times before that she couldn't keep track of half the places she had gone through. And before she left, maybe she'd find out why the place was so messed up, like why the moons were wrong. Last night, Nomon was huge, Salas had turned pink, and Mishim wasn't anywhere at all.

There weren't no spren here neither. It was bad enough that she couldn't tell where the wind was blowing without any Windspren flying about, but it seemed like such a waste of time to show off when there weren't any Awespren to be impressed.

All in all, the place was quiet and boring, but if anyone could fix boring, she could.

"Well," Louise said afterwards as they walked up the stairs to her bedroom. "You managed to make quite the spectacle of yourself."

It didn't sound like she had noticed Lift's Awesomeness, and was just referring to the duel. "I won, didn't I?"

"Yes, Lift, you won. You won a fight that you really shouldn't have been in to begin with. I know you were looking out for a friend, and I respect that, but what do you think is going to happen now? Do you think that Guiche is going to accept the defeated you handed him? Do you think he'll be cowed and duck his head whenever you pass?"

"Yup." And if he didn't, they could always have a rematch.

Louise blinked. "Well, yes, _Guiche_ might, but if you keep this up, you'll cross someone less spineless, and then you'll get in trouble."

Lift grinned. "Neat!"

"No, Lift, not neat. Bad. And because you are my familiar, it is my responsibility to keep you out of trouble, so from now on I will need to keep you busy in a probably vain attempt to reign in your nonsense."

Lift made a face. "That sounds starvin' dull." Her stomach growled. "Can this wait till after dinner?"

"Dinner? No, it can't! And you just had lunch. If you do nothing but eat all the time, you're going to get fat. You don't want to get fat, do you?"

"Yes."

"No, Lift, no you do not."

"I'm pretty sure I do."

"Lift, I am your master. Do not contradict me." She opened the door to her bedroom. "But as I was saying, I need to keep you busy, so from now on cleaning my room is your responsibility. I expect you to keep everything spotless, dusted, and polished while I'm in class, or you don't get to eat."

Lift stared at her aghast. "What? But ain't feedin' me part of that contract thingy?"

"Yes. And if you fulfill your end of said contract, there should be no problem." She smiled smugly, the stormin' lady. Maybe Lift _should_ light her bed on fire the next morning. That'd learn her to threaten her dinner. Louise picked up a pile of clothes and placed it in her arms. "You can start immediately with this."

Lift looked down at the bundle. "What am I supposed to do with this?"

"Launder them."

"Huh?"

Louise sighed. "Wash them."

Lift sniffed them. "They're already clean."

"What? No they're not. I already wore them."

"Yeah? How many times?"

Louise pointed at the door. "Go."

Lift hobbled out the door with her arms full of perfectly clean clothes that she was supposed to wash anyway, plotting revenge.

"If you like," Wyndle said, growing along the wall beside her, "you could leave. I imagine that if you ask directions to the nearest town, you could sell those clothes for enough to live on for some time."

Lift looked at him in surprise. "Wait, are you advisin' me to _steal_?"

"Well, you have never objected to criminal behavior before."

"But you hate it when I steal!"

"Yes, but I confess that I reached the lowest point in my existence some time ago, and I do not trust that girl."

Lift grinned. "Oh, Wyndle, I am so proud of you! We'll make a proper Voidbringer of you yet, just you wait."

Wyndle sighed. "I recant my previous statement. _Now_ is the lowest point in my existence."

Before she could respond, Lift nearly bumped into a maid coming up the stairs. She recognized her as the maid with no survival instincts that Guiche had been so upset with earlier, and the maid recognized her too.

"You! You're the commoner that noble girl summoned! You're the one who challenged a mage to a duel–and _won_!" She was taller than Lift with straight black hair down to her chin, the face of a young woman, and the body of a grown one.

"Um, that might have been me." That was the problem with being so awesome; people noticed you, and it was starvin' difficult to work as a master thief when everyone knew who you were.

"Of course it was! I saw the whole thing! Oh, my name is Siesta, by the way, it's a pleasure to meet you. I'd shake your hand, but … you know what? Let me take those." She took the bundle of clothes from Lift's arms. "Would you like to meet the rest of the staff? They're all talking about you and they'd love it if you could stop by the kitchen if you're not in too much of a hurry."

Ugh, fans. "I would, but …." Kitchen? "Sure."

Siesta beamed. "That's wonderful! It's right this way." She led Lift down the stairs. "I have to say, watching you duel Lord Guiche was the bravest thing I have ever seen. It was the sort of thing I'd expect to read in a story! Why'd you do it?"

 _Because someone has to care. Too few people do._ But that wasn't the sort of thing she could say to someone who was already impressed with her, so she shrugged and said, "I was bored."

"You dueled a mage … because you were bored?"

"Yup."

"Ah." Siesta fell silent for a moment. Lift stuck her hands in her pockets and found the roll of hard bread she had stuck there earlier as well as something she had gotten from Guiche during their fight. It was a bag of something dense–a bunch of yellow metal disks with a picture of a lady's face on them.

"Hey Siesta? What are these?"

Her eyes widened. "Oh, wow! That's a lot of money!"

"Money?" That was boring. She tossed it over her shoulder.

"Are you just throwing that away?"

"Why not? It's just money." Siesta stopped and stared at the bag as though it were a pastry. "You can have it if you want."

"Really?" Siesta asked. She scurried over to the bag and pocketed it. "Where'd you get this, anyway?"

"Guiche."

"Lord Guiche? You mean you dueled a noble _and_ extorted him?"

"Um, if extorted means what I think it means, then yup." Folks were always making up new words for thieving.

When they reached the kitchens, Siesta pushed the doors open and announced, "Here she is!" The cooks, chefs, and everyone in between, all wearing white clothes and funny hats, looked up and cheered.

"That was amazing!" one of them said. "To think that such courage and determination could dwell in one so small, it brings a tear to my eye."

"Truly, little one, you are an inspiration."

"How does it feel knowing that you are possibly the most incredible person who has ever lived?"

"Hungry," Lift said. The cooks laughed. "I'm serious! It feels like lunch was yesterday."

The cook with the biggest hat stepped forward. "Of course! One does not become the champion of the common man on bread and water. Allow me to fix you a dish worthy of your accomplishments."

"Champion of the what now?" But the cook filled up a plate for her that smelled so exquisite it drove all coherent thought out of her head.

Siesta smiled. "While you're eating, I'll go ahead and finish your chores for you. It's the least I can do."

Lift looked up from her meal. "Okay, but make sure you do a really bad job. Otherwise, Louise will know it wasn't me."

WWW

Cooks, Lift decided, were the greatest people in the world. Without them, folks would spend all day biting rocks and wonderin' why they didn't have teeth no more. Marteau, the cook with the biggest hat, was the one in charge of everything, making him the chief chef. He would always give Lift something to eat when she came by on account of her being able to make the snobby nob she dueled squeal like a pig, which was a skill that endeared respect around here, even more than thievin'.

Siesta continued doing Lift's chores after that, as much as she could. Lift had to dust the windowsill when Louise was watching, but near everything else she could hand off to Siesta. Siesta insisted on doing as much as she could 'cause she was a real nice lady and 'cause Lift had given her a bag of money which was apparently real valuable around here. Lift didn't see why; spheres looked pretty and you could use them for light, but gold was just heavy.

Still, she spent a lot of time eating in the kitchen and she still hadn't learnt how to do laundry, so she was happy with that.

Scholars, though, were a strange lot. She was at a school, but out of everyone only two of them were scholars, and one of them wanted Lift for an experiment. Lift would have said no, but no one asked her, the scholar only asked Louise, and Louise said yes 'cause the scholar was a teacher and if you do what the teacher says, he'll tell people you're smart.

The scholar was the Ardent Lift had met her first day here, though apparently he wasn't an Ardent at all.

"Not all fire mages are Ardents," Louise explained. "Really, the only person who uses that Runic Name is Kirche."

"Kirche, who's Kirche? Wait, ain't she the one with the huge …."

"Monster breasts? Yes, that's her."

"She's an _Ardent_?" Lift looked down at her feet. Everything she knew about Vorin priests was wrong.

Colbert the not-Ardent cleared his throat. "So, now that that's out of the way, shall we begin?" They were outside, not far from her duel. "Now, Lift, was it? I did some research on your runes, and I believe that they might, I'm not certain though, but they might give you special abilities."

"Like belchin'?" Marteau never seemed to mind, but Lift wished that she could express her appreciation for his cooking proper.

"Um, no. More like, if I am correct, weapon expertise." Colbert waved his staff and a sword appeared in the air. It wasn't like a Shardblade forming out of nothing, it was just him using magic to make a normal sword. Out of nothing. "Now, I want you to take this sword and try to use it. Pay close attention if you feel anything different like increased strength or speed, and let me know–this is important–if you start glowing."

Lift froze. Glowing? Storms, he was onto her!

"Mistress," Wyndle said, "whatever you do, do not Invest."

She nodded and reached for the sword. She never liked weapons none. Swords, knives, those nasty ropes Fenric always carried with him, a good thief didn't need nothing like that. Sure, if someone saw you cartin' off family heirlooms they'd get a tad upset, but that was how the game worked! If you lopped the head off of anyone you liked, what was the point?

She picked it up. "Now what?"

"Oh, just use it," Colbert said. "And let me know if you feel any different."

She swung the sword around awkwardly. It was a stormin' heavy piece of junk with its own idea of where it wanted to go, and Lift got bored of the game fast. She started trying to balance it in the air when Louise spoke up.

"Lift, stop fooling around. This is important." She glanced at Colbert. "I think."

"Oh yes, very important," Colbert assured her. "But um, it's best if your familiar continues doing whatever feels natural."

"Natural? My familiar struggles with basic cutlery, and you expect her to know how to use a sword?"

"Honestly, I only expect to carry out the experiment, and should nothing unusual happen, then I will merely have failed to disprove the null hypothesis."

Lift switched positions with the sword and drove it into the ground–narrowly missing Wyndle–and climbed on top of it. "What's that?" she asked.

"Ah! I'm glad you asked. You see, statistical observation can reveal a correlation, but to determine causation, one needs to set up an experiment. Each experiment has two hypotheses: the null hypothesis, where there is no relationship between distinctive phenomena, and the alternative hypothesis, where …." He droned on for a bit, and Lift lost track of what he was saying. "Do you understand?"

Lift blinked. "Your head is really shiny when the sun's out."

He paused. "I think we've learned all we can from swords. Let's try something else."

He conjured a spear, the only major weapon to beat the sword in the age-old battle of looking like a dick. Lift ran with it and tried to pole vault into the air, but she only got halfway up before falling back down.

"So," Louise said. "Is this what research is usually like? Forgive me for saying so, Professor, but giving children random sharp objects doesn't seem, well, that responsible."

"Yes, well, just be happy there aren't any trolls involved." Colbert cleared his throat. "Spears do not appear to have affected a change, so let's move on to bows."

He conjured a bow and a quiver of arrows, which Lift had at least seen used before. Or at least held. When she nocked an arrow, it didn't seem to want to cooperate much and kept on moving. She pulled the string back, looked for a direction not likely to hit no one, and ended up aiming straight up.

Siesta, who was passing by, screamed as the arrow landed right in front of her.

"Sorry!" Lift called out. "Sorry, Siesta. I was aiming for that cloud." Stormin' crossbreeze, messing up her aim.

"Lift! You nearly gave me a heart attack! What …." Siesta noticed the two important people she was with. "May I ask what exactly you are doing?"

"No idea. You could ask the bald guy, but he don't know much, and what he knows doesn't make no sense. He can talk forever, though."

"That's it!" Colbert said suddenly. "The control group! That's what this experiment is missing!" He pointed a finger at Siesta. "You! Siesta, was it?"

"Um …." She seemed to be wonderin' how fast she could change her name. Smart move when a mad scholar was after you.

Colbert conjured a second bow and quiver. "Yes, you'll do perfectly. Now take these and … and do whatever you feel like."

Siesta took the bow and stared at it. "Okay, so you want me to do … what with them?"

"This," Lift said. She nocked an arrow, pulled the string back, and released, letting the arrow spin around in the air as confused as a king tryin' to figure out what to spend his money on. "Only, in a straight line." Starvin' archers made it look so easy.

"Oh," Siesta said. "I think it works more like this." She pulled an arrow back and launched into the air in a perfect arc. And she didn't even have to cut off one of her breasts first neither.

"How'd you do that?"

Siesta glanced behind her, where Colbert watched with interest, and Louise watched half bored to tears. "I've, um, used one before. It's really quite simple. Here, let me help. You just hold it like this, watch the feathers because they'll mess up the shot, pull back, further, _further_ , hold your breath, and let go."

The arrow went straight and true, right into a stone wall. "Awesome!" Now all Lift needed was a target. A chicken soared peacefully overhead. _Close enough._ "Hey, Siesta! I bet I can hit that chicken."

Siesta looked up. "I think that's an owl."

Lift squinted at the sky. "No. See how it has wings and feathers? It's a chicken."

"That makes it a bird."

"Is bird a type of chicken?"

"No, a chicken is a type of–"

"Tell you what, we'll do a taste test. If it tastes like chicken, it's a chicken, and if it tastes like bird, it's a bird."

"But–"

"I'll even race you for it. Whoever knocks it out of the sky gets declared Queen of the Chicken-Birds." Lift shot an arrow before Siesta could argue further, and the maid nocked an arrow of her own to not give Lift too much of a head start.

"This does not seem safe," Siesta said as arrows returned to the ground, pointy-end first.

"It's scholarship," Lift explained. "It's not supposed to be safe." Colbert started to say something, but he was cut off when one of Lift's arrows shot right through the chicken's wing. "Yes! Queen of the Chicken-Birds, right here!"

"No," Siesta said. "I believe it was my arrow that hit it." The chicken let out a single squawk and glided down somewhere on the other side of the Academy.

"Was not!" Lift turned to Louise and Colbert. "You two was watchin'. Who hit it?"

"I don't know," Louise admitted. "But I do know that the creature you hit was an owl, not a chicken."

"What?" If Louise was gonna be her master, then the least she could do was side with her.

"And if an owl was flying around," Louise continued, "at _this time of day_ , then it leads one to believe that the owl was–"

" _Lucky_!" someone cried out in the distance. " _Oh, Lucky, who did this to you? Why, Lucky? WHY?_ "

"… someone's familiar," she finished.

"Oh dear," Colbert said. "Perhaps I should have installed a few more precautions in this experiment. In any case, this test is over." He waved his staff, and the weapons he had made turned into sawdust. Lift sneezed. "Thank you all for your time. I will go catalogue my findings."

As he walked away, Wyndle spoke up. "Mistress, I don't know how much that man knows about you, but with your permission I will follow him." Lift nodded just slightly enough for him to notice, and he sprouted away.

"You know," Siesta said after a moment. "Now that I think about it, I believe it really was your arrow that hit it."

Lift looked up at her and grinned. "So does that mean you're gonna call me Queen of the Chicken-Birds from now on?"

Siesta bit back a smile. "Do you really want me to?"

"Yes."

WWW

Wyndle trailed the man named Colbert up through the central tower, hoping that Lift wouldn't get into too much trouble without him. Not that he ever could have kept her out of trouble before; in fact, she seemed drawn to mischief deliberately to torment him. Without him around, for all he knew she'd pick up gardening.

The tower was taller than anything a sane man would have built on Roshar, but the stormless skies of Halkeginia were more inviting toward those who wished to reach up to them. As Wyndle grew up the inner wall, he found himself further away from Lift than he had ever been since they had been bonded together.

That was dangerous. Lift was his anchor during his sojourn into the Physical Realm, and without her he would lose his cognisance. But he was a spren. To him, distance, like everything else, was a state of mind.

"The experiment has failed to disprove the null hypothesis," Colbert said. He stood in a room near the top of the tower and addressed a man sitting at a desk. Humans were subject to time in ways Wyndle still didn't understand, but judging by the second man's white hair, wrinkled skin, and rather large nose, Wyndle guessed that he was much older than Colbert.

"So, that means …?"

"That … the experiment has failed to disprove the null hypothesis?" Colbert said again.

The older man sighed. "I retired from academia last century when I became the Headmaster. These days I'm more a political animal than a scholar."

"Of course. My apologies, sir. I offered the familiar a series of basic weapons, but she showed no more aptitude for them than one might expect from an average commoner."

"So she's not Gandalfr?"

"I did not say that. Perhaps the runes are just a false positive, a coincidence, or perhaps the experiment did not meet the requirements to trigger her, um, Gandalfness. I observed no supernatural abilities, her runes did not show signs of activation, and when I cast Detect Magic on her, I picked up no more magic than what I might gather from a rock or tree that had spent enough time on the Academy grounds."

"Have you considered using–"

"No trolls."

"The coupon expires at the end of the month, Colbert! I have to use it on something."

"Not on children. Headmaster."

The man called Headmaster sighed. "It's always about the children with you, isn't it? Oh well. Maybe I can make a gift out. Do you think the princess would like a troll? I know if I were a princess _I'd_ like a troll."

They continued talking about nothing of importance, leaving Wyndle to wonder, _What is Gandalfr? And what does Gandalfr have to do with Lift?_

WWW

Whenever Osmond discussed something important, he asked Matilda to leave the room. That suited her just fine. Asking her to leave let her know that he was about to say something he didn't want her to know, and she knew a dozen and a half ways to eavesdrop across a Barrier of Silence. She was, after all, Fouquet, the greatest thief in Tristain.

The Headmaster, of course, knew her only as Miss Longueville, a pretty waitress he had met in a tavern and hired as his secretary. Miss Longueville had a first name, but so far no one had asked her what it was. That annoyed her and made her think that she had over prepared for this heist. Honestly, she had an entire fictional tragic backstory written down and memorized that no one had wanted to know about.

Matilda listened as the Headmaster droned on and on with one of the teachers about the familiar who wasn't Gandalfr. Maybe one day they'd talk about something interesting, like the treasury's greatest weaknesses, but she doubted it. Still, she paid attention to every conversation she was excluded from just to be safe.

As she waited, Count Mott ascended the staircase. He was an oily man who shot her an oily smile under an oily mustache that probably had its own (oily) hair dresser. That thing on his upper lip was thin and curled just like his eyebrows, for crying out loud! He was also the palace's representative to the Academy, allowing him to get away with nearly anything.

"Miss Longueville, you are looking radiant today," he said with a leer that he probably meant as a smile. Whenever he looked at her, he seemed to be undressing her with his eyes. "Have dinner with me sometime."

Was that a request or an order? Either way it made her skin crawl, but she managed to suppress her gag reflex the same way she always did when he came to visit. She imagined him bursting into flames.

"I'd love to," she said as in her mind's eye his hair caught on fire and his skin peeled off his skull, "but I'm behind on my duties as it is, and I don't know when I'll have time. Shall I announce you, Count Mott?" In her mind his eyes boiled and burst, sizzling down his face. Founder, he made a gorgeous flaming corpse. It almost made her wish she were a fire mage.

"You do that."

She knocked twice on the door to Osmond's office and opened it. "Headmaster? Count Mott is here to see you."

"Him? What the devil does he–I mean, send him in, Miss Longueville." More softly, Osmond said, "It looks like we're done here, Colbert. Keep your eyes open in case anything develops, but I wouldn't hold your breath."

Mott walked in, Colbert walked out, and the door closed itself. "Count Mott, welcome," Matilda heard Osmond say. "Always a pleasure. What can I do for you?"

"You can have one of your prettiest maids transferred to my estate." He laughed, and Osmond chuckled with him. "But seriously, what do you know about Fouquet?"

Matilda's breath caught in her throat. It always gave her a thrill when she heard people talking about her. No one knew Matilda and they overlooked Miss Longueville, but Fouquet made them nervous.

"He's a thief," Osmond replied. "Uses magic. Probably in it for the infamy." That wasn't _untrue_ , but there was more to her heists than that.

"The throne is concerned that he might come after the Sword of Destruction."

 _How?_ The throne was right, of course. The king was dead,Tristainians were suspicious of widowed queens who inherited absolute power, and the princess was too inexperienced to do much besides look pretty, so the throne in this case was Cardinal Mazarin. If that sharp old bird already knew what she was after, then she'd have to work quickly or run.

"And they want to make sure that it is secure," Mott finished.

"It is."

Mott waited for a moment. "Go on."

"It just is. The Sword is locked within the treasury with the rest of our artifacts."

"And the treasury is impregnable?"

"Like a mule."

"No weaknesses?"

 _Come on, Founder, give me something!_ She wasn't asking for the magic password, just a clue, a hint–

"Nope."

 _Dang it!_ Brimir hated her. There was really no other answer.

"Alright then." Matilda heard papers being rustled. "Then I'll need you to sign here signifying that the Sword is safe, initial here, and here, and transfer one of your maids to my estate, and sign once more at the bottom."

"Sorry, what was the third one?"

Laughter. "What, you thought I was joking earlier? No. Consider it a token to help our relationship progress smoothly."

Mott was a pig; there was no way around it. Osmond was a dirty old man, but he was harmless. Mott knew exactly what he couldn't get away with, and he did everything else. It almost made her want to pay him a visit.

Osmond sighed. "Fine, fine. Which one do you want this time?"

"Osmond, my old, old friend, you should know me well enough by now. I am a man of very specific tastes, and I require a certain ascetic from my household–"

"A huge rack?"

"Exactly."

"Would you be interested in a troll as well?"

"No. Wait, why?"

WWW

Lift lugged a basket of laundry down the the kitchens, ready to eat. For some reason–Lift suspected utter madness–Louise wore her clothes _once_ and wanted them washed. Who did that? Well, rich folk. And crazy folk. But too much money made you loony.

Marteau greeted her, strangely subdued. Usually he was all stars and kisses, talking real fancy and inventing new titles for her, but today all he said was, "Hey, Lift. Let me get you some stew."

Storms, she must be wearing out her welcome. She'd need to find another nob to beat up, or no more free food. The stew was good when she started to eat it, but it seemed to be missing something. Atmosphere? Usually only rich folk made a big deal about eating someplace full of paintings and statues, but Lift found that food always tasted better when your friends were happy.

And now, they looked like they was at a funeral. Marteau's shoulders drooped and the shine in his eyes was gone, Marcus the assistant cook was clenching his fists and muttering to himself, and Siesta … hold on, where was Siesta? Lift glanced at the laundry basket that Siesta always took care of. It hadn't moved.

"Where's Siesta?"

Marteau flinched. "You … you haven't heard?"

"Heard what?"

"Siesta … she's gone."

Lift felt a chill. "She's _dead_? When did that happen?" If it wasn't too long, she might still be able to help like she had with Gawx.

"No! No, no, she's not dead. Just gone. She's been transferred. A nearby nobleman just purchased her contract."

"Ah, that's too bad." She poked at her stew with her spoon. "Where's she working now? Might wanna visit her later."

Marteau shot an awkward look at the other cooks. "Um, it's not _exactly_ like that. See, Count Mott–that's the nobleman who purchased her–he picked her specifically."

"Okay."

"And, and you know what that means, right?"

"Sure. It means …." She glanced down at Wyndle, who didn't say nothing. "Er, what again?"

"Oh, Founder. It means …." He turned around to the other cooks. "Would anyone else care to explain this?" They shook their heads. "It means that he wanted her as his–his _mistress_."

Lift blinked. "He wants her to be his boss?" Well, nobles were a strange lot, no two ways around it. But still, _Siesta_? She tried to imagine her bossing someone around. It involved her holding a whip and apologizing profusely.

"No, it's not that kind of mistress." Marteau's blockish face had turned pink. "It's the other kind, the kind that has–that sleeps with him."

Lift's jaw dropped. "And she _agreed_ to that?"

"No! Do you think she had a choice?" She had never seen Marteau lose his temper. It was like a flash of lightning, and it ended as quickly as it came. "Sorry. It's not your fault, I shouldn't yell at you. I don't know how things work where you're from, but in Tristain, nobles aren't the sort of people you can say no to."

 _She didn't have a choice._ "So she's a slave." Marteau flinched at that. No one seemed to like that word, but they were all fine living it. But if Siesta _was_ a slave, then picking her up and running off with her wouldn't be kidnapping. It'd be _stealin'_.

Lift set her bowl down and stood up, putting her hands on her hips. "Glad you told me this, Marteau. Now cool your grills, grab your things, and gather your friends, 'cause us'n ours are goin' on a heist."

Marteau blinked. "What?"

"You heard me. Siesa don't wanna be there, and we don't want her there, so we're gonna pay a visit to this Cott Mount and leave 'im Siestaless."

"What? No. No, no, no. We can't just grab our torches and pitchforks and form an angry mob in front of his estate and demand her back! I told you, nobles aren't the sort of people you can say no to."

"I did."

"This isn't like your duel! The boy you fought challenged _you_ , he bound himself to certain rules. Count Mott has guards and magic! He has the _law_ on his side! _There's nothing we can do_!"

Lift's face darkened. "So you're just gonna abandon her?"

"There's nothing we can do," he repeated weakly.

Of course. Of course he was going to abandon her. That's what everyone did. _Don't look out for no one but yourself, 'cause ain't no one's gonna look out for you._

"Okay then. I'll just have'ta do this myself."

"What? No, kid, you can't! That's suicide! Suicide if you're lucky!"

Lift grinned. "Sounds challenging." She hadn't been on a decent heist since she robbed the Bronze Palace, and even that had been a piece of cake until Darkness showed up.

"I'm serious, Lift! Promise me– _promise_ me that you won't do anything stupid."

She rolled her eyes. "Okay, I promise you won't do anything stupid."

Marteau gave her a flat look. "I'm not joking."

"Alright," she said, all lightness gone from her voice. "I swear, by the tenth name of the Almighty himself, that I ain't gonna do nothin' stupid." And she meant it. Her friend was in trouble and needed her help, and Lift couldn't think of nothing stupider than abandoning her.

She strode out of the room with her bowl of stew still half full. Then she realized what she had done, came back, and finished it off. She was gonna need it tonight.

WWW

Cott Mount's manor, or whatever his name was, was easy to find. "Just head east down the main road for an hour," Guiche had told her. "You can't miss it." His voice had jumped up an octave when he spoke to her, but she didn't ask why.

Breaking in was even easier. There were guards patrolling everywhere, and they even had this kind of axehound that was cute and fluffy with fur instead of a carapace. The animals had wings, too, but there wasn't nothing that could see in the dark and it was already night by the time she got there.

The guards inside the big house were a different sort entirely. While the ones on the outside were watchin' and listenin' for everything, the indoor guards were blind, deaf, and dumb, as though they was practicing telling the magistrate that they ain't seen their boss do nothin'. That meant they didn't see Lift pass through, neither.

Finding Siesta was the hardest part. Lift wandered around, listened to folks talking, stopped by the kitchens, ate Cott Mount's dinner, and didn't find nothing. In the end it was Wyndle who slithered off on his own and came back telling her where her friend was. Lift had to sneak around everywhere, but Wyndle was a Voidbringer, so only the pure in heart could see him, and that meant no one in the manor.

When Lift finally found Siesta, she was sitting in a tub big enough for a small neighborhood, though putting a neighborhood in a tub at once was a bad idea. There were always folks with too much to hide and others with not enough to show. Siesta, from what Lift could see, was definitely part of the first group.

"So this big important bloke drags you all the way from the Academy to be his dirty girl," Lift said, "and the first thing he does is makes you take a bath. That's just plain insulting."

Siesta sank into the water and turned around, her eyes as big as cookies. "Lift? Is that–what are you _doing_ here?"

Lift had never been one for baths and a rag and bucket had always been good enough for what she needed, but she sat down on the edge of the tub anyway and soaked her feet in the hot water. How'd they heat the water here? Magic, probably. "A heist," she answered. "You almost done?"

"But, but, how did you get here?"

"Walked."

"How'd you get in?"

"Window."

" _Why_?"

"Already told you. I'm doing a heist."

"What?"

Storms, she was slow. Baths did that to you. Boiled your brains out, they did. That's why Lift never had no part with them. "I'm stealing you. Might wanna get dressed first. Elsewise folks might stare and you'll catch cold."

Siesta blinked and her mouth worked wordlessly for a moment. "Are you … you're here to rescue me?"

"Sure, if you wanna call it that."

She groaned. "Thank you, Lift, really, this means a lot to me, but you shouldn't have come here. Even if you could get me out, I can't leave."

"You can't? Why not?"

"Count Mott, he has my contract. You know how contracts work, right?"

Lift showed her the back of her left hand. "Does it involve a weird mark on your hand?"

"No, no, it's not a familiar contract. It's a promise that I'll work for a certain amount of time for a certain wage. I sold my contract to the Academy because it seemed safe, but then the Headmaster sold it to Count Mott."

"So, if you leave you don't get paid?"

"Yes, but there's more. It also has my contact information, my next of kin, and my description. Leaving before it expires is considered fraud, and the contract holder, in this case Mott, has the legal right to demand compensation from my family, so if I leave, not only will I be an outlaw, but one of the members of my family could end up forced to work for Mott in my stead."

"Oh." Lift splashed the bathwater with her feet thoughtfully. She didn't understand a lot of what Siesta said, but she got the gist of it. "So basically, he has your soul."

Siesta frowned. "I guess you could call it that."

Lift grinned. "Then we'll just have'ta steal it back. Lucky for you, a friend of mine is always tryin' to get me into that sort of thing."

"I do no such thing!" Wyndle protested.

Where to begin? She realized that stealing dinners was easy; she just had to follow her nose, but she had no idea what souls smelled like. She could ask Wyndle, but the Voidbringer would probably just lie to her.

"No." Siesta reached over and took her hand. "I appreciate what you're trying to do, Lift, really, but it's too dangerous. If the guards see you wandering around–"

"Then I'll run away."

"And if they catch you?"

"They won't. I'm a master thief, remember?" She knew she had mentioned that a few times, but the general response so far was something like, "That's adorable. Have some more pie," which was a bit patronizing, but there was pie involved. "I grew up in the City of Shadows, and I escaped Darkness himself. This Cott Mount bloke ain't got nothin' I can't handle. But if you're afraid of getting caught, you can stay here. I'll manage."

Siesta grimaced and bit her lip, then she finally said, "I know I'm going to regret this, but I can't let you go alone. Just give me a moment to get dressed and I'll come with you." She stood up and grabbed a towel. "Besides, I might have an idea of where my contract is."

A few minutes later, they were wandering through the mansion, looking for souls. Or at least Siesta was. She seemed to think that Cott Mount kept his souls in a place called an "office," so Lift just followed her until they saw someone coming around the next corner.

"Hide!" Siesta hissed, and Lift was already looking for a hiding spot. The hall was full of pillars and sculptures, but they had stopped in a particularly barren part of it, so Lift dove under the first thing she could think of, which was Siesta's dress. It was red instead of the black one she wore at the academy, but it went down to her feet and was poofy enough to hide a master thief. "Not there," Siesta whispered, but it was too late.

Siesta stood as still as a statue as Lift heard a set of footsteps come closer. "Ah, Siesta," she heard a man say. "You're ready. How fortuitous."

Fortuitous? Who the storms talked like that? Lift didn't know who he was, but he sounded like an eel.

"Um, not yet, your lordship. I still need to, um, take care of something."

"Please, girl, there's no need to be coy. I've been looking forward to tonight ever since I first laid eyes on you, and I simply cannot wait any longer to find out what you have under your dress."

Lift gasped. He _knew_! How did he know she was there? Was she breathing too hard? Whatever it was, she couldn't keep hiding. She would have run if she were alone, but she couldn't leave Siesta to get in trouble, so there was only one thing left to do.

She became Awesome.

A storm erupted in her veins, flooding her with ice and lightning. She jumped out from under Siesta and punched the eel-man in the jaw. The force of the blow lifted him off his feet and knocked him out cold.

Siesta gasped. "What was that? Lift, you just attacked a nobleman!"

Was that what he was? Good. Marteau always gave her extra food when she did that. "After he found out where I was hiding, I didn't have no choice!" It was funny, though. In all her heists, this was the first time she had hit someone. She always said that thievin' shouldn't leave bodies, and now she had a big one on the floor. He was still breathing, but he looked mighty conspicuous all the same.

"He didn't know anything! He was just … oh, Founder, I feel faint."

"You do? Siesta, no! You ain't got time for faintin'! We gotta get your soul back! How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Two. But you look like you're glowing."

Huh. That happened sometimes when she became Awesome. "Okay, why don't you sit down, and I'll get rid of the body."

She grabbed the man by the ankle and shoved her Awesomeness into him, making him Slick. She pulled him along as easily as if he were sliding on ice, and shoved him down a flight of stairs.

Siesta looked up, the dazed expression vanishing form her face. "Lift! Are you trying to kill him?"

"I had to put his body _somewhere_."

"At the bottom of the stairs?"

"Anyone who sees him will think he tripped." And he was probably still alive. Lift had fallen down loads of stairs, and she was fine. The secret was in knowing how to roll. "Are you done feelin' faint?"

"No. Not at all. But you're right, we don't have time." She stood up unsteadily. "Count Mott's study is right here." She opened up a door and Lift followed her inside, and the two of them began looking for souls.

The study had a desk, two bookcases, windows, and a balcony. Lift didn't know where to begin, but Siesta went first to the desk drawers. "It's locked," she said, trying to pull one open. "Lift, see if you can find a spare key lying around."

"Key?" Lift laughed. "Siesta, have you been deaf when I was telling you about me being a master thief? Step back, and let the master do her thievin'."

She pulled out a rockvine seed from her pocket. Rockvines didn't grow around these parts. Here, all the plants were soft and flimsy 'cause they didn't have no Highstorms to stand against. Wyndle had warned her against using plants from her home on account of them being able to cause "untold ecological devastation," but that sounded like Voidbringer nonsense. She stuck the seed into the lock, and became Awesome.

When she became Awesome, she could either keep the Awesomeness and become faster and stronger until she ran out, or she could use it. When she used the Awesomeness, she could either make stuff Slick, which was incredibly fun, or she could make stuff Grow. With the seed in the lock, she made it Grow until it pushed the tumblers into place, letting her open the drawer.

"How did you do that?" Siesta asked.

"I was Awesome."

"But … nevermind. Also, are you sure you're not glowing? Because it really looks like you are."

"I ain't. You're just excited 'cause we're about to get your soul back."

"Right, right." She pulled a stack of papers out of the drawer. "My contract should be in here somewhere. Can you read?"

Lift laughed. "Wait, are you serious?"

Siesta sighed. "I'll just go through these by myself." She started flipping through papers. She was going pretty fast, but there were a lot of them, so Lift started looking around.

 _If I had a bookcase,_ she thought, looking at the one in the room, _it would open up a secret passageway if I took out a book, like this!_ She pulled out a book, but nothing happened. Well, that was disappointing. She tossed the book over her shoulder.

 _Okay, but what if I turn this torch sconce?_ The sconce didn't turn. Lift frowned. What was the point of being rich if you didn't have no secret passageways?

There was an ugly painting on the wall. The Cott fellow probably just had bad tastes, but just to be sure, Lift pulled it aside, and found a secret compartment in the wall. It wasn't a passageway, but it had a strongbox, and that was better than nothing. Strongboxes were big heavy boxes made of metal with locks that were nearly impossible to pick. At least, that's what folks told Lift, but she never had no problem with them.

She stuck a seed in the lock, made it Grow, and popped it open. Being Awesome made her hungry, so she hoped there was something good inside, but instead there was just a bunch of dun spheres and gemhearts. Of course they'd be dun. Most spheres went dun after a week without a Highstorm to recharge them, so around here all the spheres would be dun. Well, not Lift's lucky diamond mark. It never ran out of Stormlight. 'Cause it was lucky.

"I found it!" Siesta said, waving a bit of parchment in the air triumphantly.

"You did?" Lift pulled out a handful of Gemhearts from the box. "I was gonna ask you if any of these looked like your soul, but okay, we can go now!"

Siesta gasped. "What is that?"

Lift shrugged. "A ruby, some sapphires, mostly diamonds."

"Count Mott had all that money in his _wall_?"

"This is money? You said that gold was money!" Currency. Starvin' confusing, it was. That's why Lift always stuck to food. She put it back.

"Good idea," Siesta said. "We've broken enough rules already."

Lift stopped. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just that we don't need to get into anymore trouble."

Lift frowned and picked up the strange money. "We can _always_ get into more trouble. Here, take it."

"I can't take that!" she said, but the look on her face suggested that she wanted to try anyway. "Anyone who sees me with that much money will think I stole it!"

"But you didn't. I did. And I'm givin' it to you."

Siesta bit her lip and hesitantly took the money as though worried it might bite her. "I guess … I guess if I'm going to start over, it wouldn't hurt."

And that's when the ceiling collapsed. The wall went with it, giving them a perfect view of a cloaked, green-haired lady standing on top of a mountain with arms. Lift ain't never saw a mountain with arms before, but she figured that sort of thing happened all the time around here, so it was probably nothing to–

Siesta screamed and threw a handful of gemhearts at the woman, just like a noblewoman would have done, then grabbed Lift by the hand and ran out the door, clutching a stack of papers.

"What was that?" Lift made her feet Slick and slid along merrily behind her.

"A golem. A big one."

"Like Guiche's booby knights?"

"Bigger! And not something we can deal with right now."

"I dunno. That lady on its head seemed more surprised to see us than we did to see her."

Siesta didn't answer and focused on running. The entire estate had erupted into a state of panic with some guards running towards where the golem had smashed through the wall and many, many more trying to find something to do on the other side of the manor. Siesta reached the stairs that Lift and rolled Cott Mount down, and he was still there, sleeping peacefully at the bottom, surrounded by maids.

"Oh dear, it seems the master of the house fell down the stairs," one of the maids said.

"Tragic," said another.

"He may require a healer before he can walk again."

"Dreadful."

"And it sounds like we are being invaded, or at least robbed."

"Truly this is a terrible night."

"Do you think, Maria, that this could be the work of the thief Fouquet?"

"It could be, Magdala. It could very well be."

"I have heard it said that when Fouquet chooses his target, he always steals what his victim values most."

"Indeed?"

"Yes. I wonder what Count Mott values most?"

For a moment neither spoke. Then, "Shall I fetch the scissors, Magdala?"

"Please, Maria."

The maid Maria started to leave when she saw Siesta, and she gave Lift barely a glance. She was an older sort, with wrinkles on her face and her hair streaked with grey. "Ah, new girl. What was your name again? And do you have any scissors?"

"Sorry, I don't have any scissors, and I'm not going to give you my name either because I may have just broken the law."

"How distressing."

"Though I may have something for you. I, um, reclaimed my contract, and I think yours might be in here, too." Siesta rummaged through her stack of papers, and then pulled one out and gave the rest to Maria. "I only need this one, really. I'm sure yours is in there somewhere if you want it."

"Why thank you, dear, you are most generous. I'd tell you that we'll never forget you, but sadly, I fear you have already been forgotten."

Siesta smiled. "I appreciate that, Maria. It means a lot to me."

She led Lift out the front door, and with so many of the guards intent on ignoring everything or panicking, no one stopped them.

"I don't believe it," Siesta said. "We made it. We made it!" She laughed and gave Lift a hug.

Lift grinned and shrugged. "What did you expect? I did tell you I was a master thief. Come on. Let's go home." She started walking back towards the Academy, but Siesta didn't follow her. "What's wrong?"

"I don't work there anymore. The Academy sold my contract to Count Mott, and if I go back, then they'll just send me back here."

"But … that ain't right!" Lift had stolen her, stolen her like dinner.

Siesta smiled sadly. "That's the world we live in. You may have saved me tonight, but you can't change the world."

"Says who?"

She cocked her head at that. "Well, maybe you will, someday. But not tonight."

"So where will you go?"

Siesta looked down the road the opposite direction from the Academy. "I don't know. My uncle owns an inn in the city, and I could work there for a time. Or I could go back to Tarbes and work on the farm again. It won't need another set of hands until harvest time, but my family will make room." She smiled again. "Or maybe I'll meet a knight in shining armor, fall in love, and live happily ever after. Who knows?"

"So … so I ain't gonna see you again, am I?"

"Well, you don't _know_ that."

"If you don't know where you're going, I ain't gonna know where to find you."

Siesta frowned, but only for a moment. "I'll tell you what. You stay at the Academy so I'll know where you are, and when I decide where I'm staying, I'll send you a letter."

Lift's face brightened. "Yeah!"

"But wait, you don't know how to read, do you?"

She shrugged. "I can learn it." Reading couldn't be that hard, and Lift was starvin' clever. And if that didn't work, she could always get Louise to read it for her.

Siesta gave her a smile, a real one this time. Folks ought to smile when they had their souls back. "Then we'll keep in touch."

WWW

There was always an awkward moment when two thieves met each other robbing the same place, and professional courtesy only took one so far in Matilda's line of work. Sometimes the two thieves worked together, and sometimes they tried to trip the other up until they were both caught, but usually the weaker one bowed to the thief with overwhelming power, which was what had happened tonight.

As soon as Matilda's golem had smashed through the manor wall, the two thieves who were already there dropped their pickings and fled, which saved her a fair bit of time finding where Mott had stashed his cache. Still, if she had known that the count was going to end up robbed anyway, she would have gone after some other nobleman. _And that's why Tristain needs a Thieves Guild._

Of course, there probably was one already, and she just didn't know about it. She hadn't been in Tristain long enough to become familiar with its underground.

As she returned to the Academy, her mind kept drifting back to the pair of thieves she had encountered. As a triangle-class earth mage, she could rob people that no one else could, but it felt so easy it was almost like cheating. Those two, she suspected, were commoners. The one wearing a maid uniform had probably gone ahead to infiltrate the estate and gather information for the heist, or maybe she was already working there and found an opportunity for a pay raise. And the other one was there to … do what exactly?

Well, commoners had to solve their problems differently than mages, and the common thief was probably as incomprehensible to her as a musketeer was to a mage knight. Still, was something about that girl, barely more than a child, with her round face, tan skin, black hair, and exceptionally white teeth that Matilda couldn't put out of her mind, almost like she had seen her before, but that was impossible. Wasn't it?

In any case, she had a bag full of valuables that she could send back home, and she had her next heist to focus on. Even if she had seen that girl before, she'd probably never see her again.

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A/n As usual, thank you Magery and Stone Mason for editing this chapter, and thank you readers for reading it and thank you reviewers for reviewing it. The previous chapter was focused mostly on Louise, so I wanted this chapter to be mostly focused on Siesta, and next chapter is … going to be written. Eventually.

Before you ask, I had Matilda smash into Mott's house for no reason other than I wanted her to. There are a lot of fanfics out there where everyone acts exactly the same as in canon to the point of repeating conversations verbatim unless the familiar directly intervenes, and I respect that. Watching the butterfly effect emanate from the protagonist throughout the entire world can create an interesting puzzle and it's fun to see all the unpredicted consequences manifest themselves, but I don't work that way. It requires too much rehashing of canon until the butterflies flap their wings, and when I read fanfic rehashment stories, I lose interest. I plan on keeping the characters as much in character as reasonable, but they're going to make original choices just because they can.

Again, thank you so much for the reviews that you've left, you're the reason I keep on writing. I'll see you in chapter four.


	4. Chapter 4

Because I'm Awesome

Chapter Four

With Siesta free and gone, the Academy was a lot less fun. The kitchens were still open to Lift whenever she felt hungry, but the way the cooks and chefs were so ready to abandon their friend when Mott took her was starvin' predictable. Worse, Lift had to do her chores herself now, and she figured that she had only a few weeks before Louise realized that Lift was just folding her clothes instead of washing them.

Of course, by then she'd have been long gone to flee the boredom of the place. She had already eaten Louise's dinner, the Headmaster's dinner, and most of the teachers' dinners, and they all had the same cook. These days, she spent lots of time looking at maps.

She sat on the floor next to Louise's chair with her textbook in her lap. Class was about to start. It wasn't the bald man's class. It was another teacher named Kaita, who spent half the class talking about how great he was and the other half showing off, and Louise was performing her ritual of ignoring everything around her. The girl was starvin' paranoid that people were talking about her, so she spent much of the day staring straight ahead, completely deaf.

Which was alright with Lift, because Louise thought it a sign of poor mental health when she heard Lift talking to herself.

"So, we're in this one?" she said, squinting at the map at the beginning of the book. If she knew which book it was, she'd have a better idea of why the scribes drew a map in it, but she couldn't read. She didn't need to read to look at pictures, though, and that's what a map was.

"That is correct, Mistress," Wyndle said. "We are in the kingdom of Tristain, a short distance from the kingdom's capital, Tristania. To the east, well, to the left because you're looking at it upside down, is Germania, with Gallia to the right, and Romallia right above us. The island at the bottom of the page to the north is Albion, which I understand is known to float."

"Really?" A floating island sounded pretty awesome. "How do you know that?"

"I've read it," the Voidbringer replied. He sounded a bit too smug. "I'd offer to teach you if I thought you had the patience."

"Nah, that sounds boring. Besides, I can just have you read for me."

He sighed. If he didn't sigh at least a hundred times a day, he started wilting. Or blooming. Either one would look bad on him. "So, do you plan to leave to this Albion?"

"Thinking about it."

"Well, it does seem to be worth thinking about. I am generally in favor of laying down roots in one spot, but not as someone's … pet."

Lift raised an eyebrow. "That's right queer coming from you. You don't lay down roots neither, you just grow from one place to another and leave behind nothing but … dust." Lift had never left behind much either. She never had much to leave behind to begin with, and while she had left an emperor back in Azir, some of the towns she had passed through she had never talked to no one twice and never even gave a soul her name. "And _you're_ a pet!"

Before Wyndle could protest, a woman stopped by Louise's desk. Sitting on the floor, Lift saw plenty of skinny-girl legs pass by, but these were adult woman legs. And the woman walking with them was _old_ , too, like twenty or something, with her green hair tied back and spectacles on her nose.

"Excuse me, Miss Valliere?" she said softly. "Your familiar's presence is requested in the Headmaster's office."

Louise looked up at her. "It is? Is this about the tests Professor Colbert was working on the other day?"

She smiled. "You know how professional academics can be with their projects."

Louise took a deep breath. "Oh, don't I just. When my sister Elenore sinks her teeth into her nonsense, it's _usually_ figurative, but … well, that's not important." She stood up to go, but the woman stopped her.

"Oh, you don't need to come," she said. "Just your familiar. You still have class."

Louise looked at her, then down at Lift, then to the empty spot where the teacher usually stood. "Are you sure? My familiar can be quite a hassle, Miss Longueville."

The woman—Miss Longueville—didn't catch the hint. "I'm sure we'll be able to handle her, and this won't take long."

"Oh." Louise was an odd sort of girl. She didn't want to go to class, but she refused to skip without a reason better than just not wanting to go. She sat down, looking glum. "You behave yourself, Lift."

Lift grinned at her. "I always behave." She followed Longueville out of the room.

They left the Wind Tower, went into the main tower, and climbed the entire storming staircase to the top floor. People in charge always set themselves up at the top of the tallest tower, them and locked up princesses. Lift never understood why. It was probably because stinks sank so the air smelled nicer up there.

They reached an office at the top with a shiny desk and a velvet, cushioned chair, which Longueville sat down in. "So, Lift, was it? Do you know why you're here?"

Lift blinked. "I was just following you! I thought you knew!"

Longueville gave her a flat look. "Of course _I_ know! I was asking if _you_ knew!"

"Uh-huh. I bet you just forgot." Enough learning could do that to people.

"Very well, young lady, I'll make this simpler. Where were you two nights ago?"

Oh. Well, that was a great big pile of chull dung she had tripped into. "Lots of places," she said, keeping her face neutral. "I did some eating, some sleeping, some … more eating."

"And which of those did you do at Count Mott's manor?"

Yup, she was in trouble. It took a conscious effort not to look for an exit. On the floor, Wyndle whimpered, but if a group of constables were coming up to grab her, he'd say something. Lift was pretty sure Longueville was _not_ a constable … but she wasn't the headmaster either, and that's who she said wanted to talk to her.

Of course, she had said that to Louise, probably just to get Lift alone.

"None of 'em. Why? Does he have any decent eats?"

"No," she said evenly. "But eyewitness accounts have placed someone of your description at his manor on the night he was robbed – so I'll ask you again, what were you doing there?"

Lift shrugged. "Didn't do nothing, wasn't there. Why don't you ask them witness eyes what I did?"

"According to the _eyewitnesses_ , you were involved in an act of burglary."

Lift sat up, indignant. "What? That's crazy! Why would I go all the way to wherever this Mott count lives just to pick my nose?"

"No, _burglary_ , not … nevermind." She sounded annoyed, but Lift saw the corners of her mouth twitch, like she was trying not to smile. So she was human. Good. You couldn't assume those things about everyone, but it made Lift's situation better. "I should point out that, officially speaking, we are not having this conversation."

"We ain't?"

"No. You see, it would be rather embarrassing if the familiar of one of the school's students were to be found involved in a serious crime such as this, so the Headmaster would much rather sweep this event under the rug. That's why I am speaking to you in his place, because _officially_ he doesn't know we are having this conversation because _officially_ this conversation has never happened. Understand?"

Lift nodded slowly. "Seems like under the rug is a good place for this. So, officially, I was never at the manor neither, right?"

"Correct."

"But unofficially," Lift said, "you want something."

Longueville clasped her hands together over the desk. "Fouquet the master thief has committed robberies across the kingdom, and the Headmaster is concerned that he might target the Academy soon. Fouquet robbed Count Mott's manor on the same night you were there, and as an eyewitness, the Headmaster would like to know anything we can do to prepare for any … eventualities."

So that was it. They weren't after her, they were after this Fouquet person, so as long as Lift snitched, she'd be fine. "Well," she said, "I ain't never seen nothin' on account of me not being there, but if I was to imagine seeing a Fouquet, I'd picture him as a her."

Longueville raised an eyebrow. "Fouquet is a woman?"

Lift shrugged. "Could be. Like I said, I never saw her, but I couldn't not see her very well 'cause she was wearing a cloak with the hood up."

"I see. Any other distinctive features?"

Lift closed her eyes trying to picture that night when the wall collapsed and a woman on a walking mountain appeared. "I remember she had long, green …" Lift opened her eyes and realized just how long and green Longueville's hair was, and how she was about the same size as Fouquet. "… fingernails."

Longueville blinked and glanced—impulsively, reflexively—at her hands. _Storms, I'm in trouble._

"Interesting. Is that all?"

"Let me think." And she did think. She thought about what Longueville was playing at, what she knew, and what she was going to do to her when she was done. She could try to run and get back to Louise, but Longueville could out her for stealing Siesta's soul back, and Lift was more sure about the lawmen believing Longueville than her.

Then she had an idea. It wasn't a good idea, but Lift never had time for good ideas anyway.

"She ain't a master thief."

"What?"

"You said Fouquet was a master thief. She ain't. She's an amateur."

Longueville frowned. "Fouquet has robbed nobles across the kingdom and has gotten into vaults considered to be impregnable."

Lift's eyes grew wide. Longueville didn't look like she was having a baby, but …

"That means something you can't get through," Wyndle explained. "Like a remarkably secure fortress."

Oh. She knew that. "She cheats. Anyone can get into a building if you knock it over first. That's like picking someone's pocket after stabbing 'em. She may have gotten what she wanted, but she woke up the entire manor. If they know you're there before you leave, you're an amateur."

Longueville raised an eyebrow. "And I suppose you think you could do better?"

Lift let out a laugh. "Of course. 'Cause unlike her, I _am_ a master thief. You know how many people noticed me before Fouquet crashed through the wall like a stormin' Shardbearer? One, and that was because I let her. Why, I bet … I bet that I could get into any vault Fouquet could get into, _and_ get out without no one knowing I was there."

Hopefully that would make Longueville want Lift alive instead of silenced. _Come on, you're a thief. You're supposed to be resourceful!_

"Really."

"Yeah. You know, if you want to, um, check your security and stuff."

Lift waited in her chair, trying not to fidget. There wasn't honor among a lot of the thieves she knew, but there _was_ greed, and folk who would stab each other in the back for an extra share of the loot would stick together for the prospect of another heist.

"Sounds reasonable," Longueville said after a while. "We'll meet up tonight and I'll show you what the Headmaster is worried about."

Lift stood up off the chair. "I'll be waiting in the kitchen."

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Lift thought about telling Louise what she was planning, but something told her the girl wouldn't approve of larceny. Louise ate with a storming fork for crying out loud, and classy folk like that never did nothing fun. Well, she did blow up rooms every now and then – but never on purpose, which sort of defeated the point.

With Siesta gone, that left Marteau the chef. He hadn't agreed to help Lift steal Siesta back, but really Lift shouldn't have expected him to, and she did just fine on her own. When she told him that Siesta was free now, he gave her one of those patient smiles adults always gave kids that almost made her want to skip dinner. Almost.

Still, it wasn't like she had anyone else to talk to, so she talked to him. "You ever hear of a thief named Fouquet?" she asked, licking cake batter off a spoon. She never understood why cooks bothered baking it when it made perfectly good sludge.

"The Crumbling Dirt?"

"Is that what they call her?"

"Him," Marteau corrected. "Also, the Clod. He has a few others, but that's the price of living in the underground: the Runic names end up picking themselves." He busied himself with a tray of tiny pastries. There was a fancy party later that week, the Ball of Fezziwig or something, and like all things fancy, it weren't likely to be any fun at all. The food was still good, though.

"You sure he ain't a lady?"

Marteau shrugged. "Anything is possible, really. He could be the princess of Tristain for all I know. I'm pretty sure he's a mage, but that's it."

Lift sucked on the spoon, even though it was mostly clean. "He a good person?"

Marteau shrugged again. "If he's a mage, then he's the sort who bothers other nobles and leaves us commoners alone, and that's as good as they come in my book."

Lift chewed on that, as well as some slightly burnt toffee Marteau had wanted to throw away, until Longueville showed up. Marteau and the rest of the cooks did their best to look busier than they already were, and none of them made eye contact.

"Lift," Longueville said, spotting her. "I wasn't sure you were going to show up."

She grinned. "Zish ish where zhe food ish." She struggled to get the toffee unstuck from her teeth. "Besides, I told you I'd be here."

"And you're completely trustworthy."

Lift shrugged innocently. "Aren't we all?"

Longueville raised an eyebrow. "Well, come along then. I have something to show you."

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"This is the vault of the Tristain Academy, containing the greatest wealth of magical items in the kingdom. When magical artefacts are discovered, they are brought here to be studied, and when terrible weapons are found, they are brought here to be kept safe from those who would misuse them. The lock is immune to spells of Unbinding, and the walls have been Reinforced by square-class earth mages, making them virtually unbreakable through might or magic. Headmaster Osmond has claimed that the vault cannot be breached without his key. Can you prove him wrong?"

"Hold on," Lift said. "So you're sayin' that Fouquet's this super master thief lady, but she can't pick a lock? That's like the second thing thieves learn after picking pockets, and if she picked Osmond's pockets, she could get the key, so she wouldn't have to pick the lock!"

"The whole of Tristain's aristocracy lies awake in fear that Fouquet will come for their wealth," Longueville said. "You should show respect."

" _Or_ I could hide behind a locked door where she can't get me. For a 'master thief,' I bet you can't even sneak around good."

"I sneak around just fine! I mean …"

Lift grinned. "It's okay, I'm pretty sure we're accomplices now."

Longueville scowled. "Fine. So can you pick the lock or not?"

"Of course! Someone in this group has to be a professional." Lift pulled a rockvine seed from her pocket. They didn't grow around here, but they were the best for this sort of work. She stuffed it in the lock and summoned her awesomeness. Her hand glowed faintly white, and the seeds sprouted, pushing the tumblers of the lock into place until it clicked.

Longueville's eyes narrowed. "I may not be an expert on street level thiefcraft, but _that_ is definitely not the standard method of picking locks."

Lift shrugged. "That takes too long, so I used a magic seed instead."

"I see," she replied, as though she actually believed it – though maybe they had magic seeds around here. "And where exactly did you acquire them?"

"Found 'em. They grow all over the place where I used to live." She opened the door and stepped into the vault. For all of Longueville's talk, the place looked like the sort of place everyone talked about robbing. It was full of fancy, expensive looking junk that Lift couldn't eat.

Longueville, though, looked like she was surrounded by cake. "Oh, this is _magnificent!_ The Bell of Sorrows, the Mask of Woe; if I could carry it all out with me, I would!" She turned to her, her face glowing with happiness. "If you see anything you like, feel free to take it. They'll blame me for anything that goes missing."

Lift shrugged. "Nothing here looks like much fun."

Longueville smiled. "You walk into the finest treasury in the kingdom outside the palace, and it doesn't look like fun? The cheapest relic here could let you retire in comfort."

"Don't wanna retire yet," Lift said. "Besides, I already robbed a palace."

Longueville looked at her. "You know, I just might believe you. The Valliére girl has no idea what she summoned, does she?"

She shrugged again. "Ain't no one knows me but me."

Longueville cocked her head. "Perhaps. Might you be interested in joining me on my next heist, kid? You have talent – talent that's being wasted washing clothes for spoiled nobles."

Lift raised an eyebrow. "Maybe. Where's the next job?"

She smiled. "Anywhere. There are still a few estates in Tristain that would be worth the time, and there's also the rest of Halkeginia. Gallia, the holy relics of Romallia …"

"Albion?"

She hesitated. "If you like. We can visit, but I'd rather not risk a job there until the civil war settles down."

"Does it really float?"

"Ah. That it does. The rivers fall off the edge and turn to mist, making the country look like it's floating on clouds from a distance. But when you're on the ground and you can't see it, you can still _feel_ it. The earth shifts beneath your feet when you walk, and the air you breathe is that much closer to the sky." She chuckled. "You're making me homesick, kid. I grew up there, you know. Maybe I am overdue for a visit."

She turned back to the shelves and stopped when she found what she was looking for. "Ah ha! Here we are. The Sword of Destruction itself." She reached down and picked up—a Shardblade.

Lift hadn't seen one since Darkness tried to kill her, but you couldn't _not_ recognize a Blade. Each one looked different, but they _all_ were perfect, looking more like works of art than common weapons. The one in Longueville's hands was as tall as she was, bone white and split down the middle.

She swung it with one hand as though it weighed as much as air, and cut through the wall. She laughed. "Reinforced by square-class earth mages, and it might as well be paper."

Behind Lift, Wyndle whimpered. "Mistress," he said, "this is not right. That _thing_ should not exist in this world!"

"Shouldn't exist nowhere," Lift agreed.

Longueville finished carving a hole in the wall, revealing the twin moons of the night sky. "What was that?"

"Where'd the sword come from?" Lift asked.

"I think a commoner had it. He died, and Osmond brought it back for further study. You'll have to ask the old man for more details, but I doubt even he knows how a peasant got his hands on a sword like this."

"You gonna sell it?"

Her eyes traveled up and down the shimmering Blade. "I was considering that. But now … I don't know. I might keep it. It will help me pick locks. But enough of that. What of my offer, Lift? Come with me, see the world, rob it blind?" She smiled. "Or are you content being some pampered noble's pet?"

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"This is a disaster!" Osmond said the next day. "How could Fouquet have robbed us right under our own noses? Losing the Sword of Destruction is one thing, but the shame of being robbed is simply intolerable! Organize a search party, Miss Longueville! I'll not rest until that thief is brought to justice! We will, of course, have to postpone the Ball of Frigg, perhaps indefinitely. You know what? Just cancel the whole thing. It's more than I can deal with right now. Miss Longueville? Hello? Are you even here?"

He looked around for his secretary, but no one was there. He considered that she might have stepped out to use the bathroom and was about to send his familiar out to spy— _check_ on her, when he noticed a note on his desk.

 _Osmond,_ the note read. _I apologize for the short notice, but I am resigning. As a going away present, I have included the legal definition of sexual harassment. Longueville_

Osmond read the note twice, skimmed the accompanying packet, and glared at his familiar. "This is all your fault, Mótsognir! You just couldn't keep your eyes to yourself."

Mótsognir squeaked apologetically.

"It's okay, I forgive you. Regardless, we will have to put the search party on hold. The first order of business is finding a new secretary! Write up a help wanted ad to the appropriate agencies, Miss Longueville." He paused. "Oh. Yes, this will complicate things."

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"This is a disaster!" Louise said. "They can't cancel the Ball of Frigg! I brought all my formal gowns from home, and that was my one excuse to wear any of them! Knowing my luck, I'll have grown out of them by the time the Ball of Sleipnir gets here! Not one word, Lift, a girl can dream."

Oddly enough, Lift obeyed and kept her mouth shut. Louise turned around, and found that there was no one else in the room. "Hello?" She looked in her wardrobe, under her bed, and even under her rug just to be sure. "Huh. Well, who have I been talking to for the past five minutes?"

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"This is a disaster!" Marteau said. "They can't cancel the ball at the last second like this! I spent all week getting the food ready for this colossal waste of frivolity! Fifty unholy carts of finger food to be nibbled on all night long, and now what am I going to do with it? How am I going to get rid of it all?"

"I can help you with that," Lift said.

"You," Marteau said. "You can eat fifty carts of crabcakes, bacon-wrapped dates, stuffed mushrooms, and lobster rolls?"

She put her hands on her hips and puffed out her chest. "Yes I can."

Marteau put a tray of food in front of her, and she started stuffing it in her mouth with the grace and refinement such delicious food deserved. She was going to miss this place.

"Hey, could I get this in a sack?" she asked.

"The food won't look as nice like that," he said. "But I suppose only nobles care about that sort of thing. Sure."

"Thanks! See, I met Fouquet, and she wants to be my princess, and we're going to be traveling for a while."

"Fouquet wants to be your … princess?"

"Yup. Cause I'm a better thief than she is, and she wants to learn from the best."

Marteau paused thoughtfully. "Oh, you mean _apprentice._ "

"Is what I said. 'Prentice." Close enough, at least.

He laughed. "Seriously, though, you shouldn't joke about something like that. Fouquet just came through here and stole the Sword of Destruction from the vault. Guards are going to be swarming the place for weeks looking for clues."

Lift nodded. She needed to have a talk with her 'prentice, make her into the right kind of thief. Real thieves didn't leave bodies behind, and they sure didn't chase after Shardblades like some eastern warlord. Longueville needed someone like her to tell her how and what to steal, and Lift needed …

Lift wasn't sure what she needed. But she had a friend, and that had to count for something.

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A/n It has been way too long since my last chapter, but here I am, still existing.

My original plan was for Lift to stay because Shardblades are scary and she wanted nothing to do with them, and then continue to hug the canon plot until after they got back from Albion. Then Magery, my most excellent editor, told me that he was kind of looking forward to Lift and Longueville having adventures together.

So then I started thinking. I've read a lot of Louise summons X crossovers, and most of them bothered me because you would have some wild and different familiar, but the story would hug the canon forcing the character into an ill suited role, because canon divergence is scary. What if I can't come up with a good replacement plot? What if no one likes my ideas? But while Lift is a Knight Radiant, she isn't a knight in shining armor character, and forcing her into that role because canon demanded it just didn't seem right.

That means that for the first time since I started this story, I have no solid idea of what's going to happen in the next chapter, so, well, into the unknown!

As usual, thank you everyone who left reviews, and if you have any comments, questions, or even advice, feel free to leave another one.


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